


Meant To Be

by DarkReyna16



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drabble Fic, F/M, Reincarnated Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkReyna16/pseuds/DarkReyna16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To miss a man she had never even met before was lunacy.</p><p>And yet, something about the blonde man with the sun in his smile drew Marinette to him irresistibly, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.</p><p>Marinette was never one to believe in Fate. But rational thought is rarely a factor in matters of the heart...or of the soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siderealSandman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderealSandman/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...*Ahem*
> 
> Don't mind me. I'm just trying to kill someone. *Pointed look in their direction*
> 
> BTU is still being written, don't worry. This is just a series of drabbles I'll do in this universe for when I need incredibly sappy fluff.
> 
> And, like I said, I'm trying to murder someone in cold blood with this. :)
> 
> Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain. Carry on.
> 
> ~Reyna

It was a time before the concept of “time” even existed.

There was no such thing as minutes, hours, days, months, years…not even eternity.

All that existed—all that mattered—was the two of them.

And they were happy.

Plagg stared at the open blue sky, feeling the pleasant breeze play across his face as he lay in the grass under their favorite tree. The good weather was an ill omen, deceptive: Plagg knew that there were darker things to come, evidenced by the ring of clouds he could witness lurking just over the horizon. But for the moment, he let none of that bother him, and instead focused on the only thing that mattered: the presence beside him, her head resting near his feet, and vice versa.

“Tikki?”

“Plagg.”

Plagg’s fingers twitched against the palm pressed against his, as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, though he knew she always was. Tikki’s fingertips traced the inside of his wrist, the sensitive skin coming alive with her touch. Plagg let out a breath at the same time Tikki breathed in, and the cycle repeated, only in reverse, a second later. Plagg had never had to breathe without her. He had hoped he would never know how that felt.

But to hope for the impossible…

“Tikki,” he began again, slowly sitting up so he could look at her. Tikki sat up as well, her indigo eyes meeting his green ones unflinchingly. She held the universe in her eyes; Plagg had discovered that long ago, and he could never get bored of looking at the constellations and supernovas in her eyes. She was absolute perfection—creation. And he was hopelessly lost without her. Not that he said that out loud, ever; he didn’t need to. There were never secrets between the two, for they were actually one, just divided into two essences. Plagg knew her every mood and thought as if they were his own, and she, his. They were created together, and consequently, they were created for each other.

“Plagg?” Tikki prompted again when Plagg got lost in her eyes, as he so often did. Her voice anchored him back to reality, and he sighed at the same time she gasped, his thoughts clear in both of their minds. Tikki stared at him, indigo eyes becoming anguished, and Plagg was immediately plagued by remorse for causing the universe to implode.

‘ _No._ ’ The word came not from her mouth, but from her mind: a fervent denial. Tikki shut her eyes, as if to blind herself from the truth, but her despair was distinctly felt, and it spoke volumes between them. Plagg’s fingers clutched hers, desperate to hold on to his universe for as long as possible, though he knew it must end…it must…

“I have seen it. We’re not long for this world.”

Tikki shook her head, scarlet locks whipping the air as her fingers laced through his, as if she was desperate to cling to him as well.

“ _No,_ ” she denied again, this time out loud. Plagg hated this, hated to do this to her. He did not like the vision any more than she did…but it had been haunting him relentlessly. He did not like the thought of their apocalypse fast approaching at all…but there was nothing he could do.

In the end, it would destroy them. And he was powerless to stop it.

Closing his eyes now, Plagg leaned forward, his forehead resting against Tikki’s.

‘ _I’m sorry, my love._ ’

Tikki’s free hand stretched forward to claim his.

‘ _There’s nothing we can do?'_

‘ _Nothing. We’re going to die, Tikki._ ’

Her fingers tightened around his. She had always been the strong one, out of the two of them…but when faced with such news, how could anyone not fall apart?

‘ _I don’t want to be without you._ ’

The thoughts were a reflex reaction, rather than something Tikki actually meant to tell him. The sincerity of her natural thoughts pierced him, and anger flashed through him. Why must Fate be so cruel? What had they done to deserve its ire? Why couldn’t they just be?

The injustice blazed within Plagg, lighting within him the desire to rebel. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop the coming disaster…but if he could assure, in some way, that he and Tikki never had to part…that they could always be together…

“You won’t have to be,” Plagg assured his other half, leaning back for a second. Tikki gazed up at him, a spark of confusion furrowing her brow. Before she could ask, Plagg was reaching up, removing his earrings, which he transferred to her ears instead. “There. Part of me with remain with you forever now.”

Tikki raised a hand to one of the earrings for a moment, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. With a hand that only just noticeably trembled, she removed the ring she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand and moved it to his, sliding it onto his fourth finger when it didn’t quite fit on the same finger. She closed her hands around his, giving him a tremulous smile that was heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time.

“And part of me, forever with you.” She touched his cheek, brushing away a stray tear that managed to escape his notice. “As long as you wear this ring, you’ll never lose me.”

“And as long as you wear my earrings, I’ll always find you,” Plagg promised her, resting his forehead against hers once more, wanting to savor every last moment with her that he could steal, even as the clouds pressed in, thunder rumbling its displeasure.

‘ _I love you, Plagg._ ’

Plagg grit his teeth, his hand beginning to tremble within hers as the rumbling grew louder and louder, until it was an earsplitting roar, impossible to ignore—

‘ _I love you too, Tikki._ ’

And then, before they knew it, their paradise was lost.

 

* * *

 

“Marinette? Hellooo? Girl, _where_ is your head today?”

Marinette blinked rapidly, abruptly pulled from her preoccupation.

“What?” She sputtered stupidly, and Alya huffed, frowning at her.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? You’ve been out of it all day.”

Marinette cringed in apology.

“Sorry…just been…thinking.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Alya sat back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest as she quirked a brow at her best friend. “You gonna share with the class or what?”

Marinette said nothing. She didn’t know if she could explain in a way that Alya would understand; hell, she didn’t quite get it, herself. This fidgeting restlessness was unnerving at the very least—it was like her body knew something she didn’t, eager for some unknown event to happen. As a result, she couldn’t sit still, and it was honestly torture for her to wait for Alya to finish her tea. Once she did, Marinette practically dragged her best friend out the door, Alya giving her yet another strange look for her antics.

“ _Seriously,_ Marinette, what is _wrong?_ ”

“Nothing,” Marinette mumbled, her eyes darting around as she marched Alya down the sidewalk. The crosswalk at the end of the street wasn’t strictly on the way back to work…but why wouldn’t she want to enjoy the nice spring weather with her best friend?

Alya did not share her sentiment; she tugged her arm out of Marinette’s grasp after a moment and pulled her to a stop just as the crosswalk traffic light turned from green to red.

“Marinette, you _suck_ at lying. Couple that with the fact that I just saved your ass from becoming roadkill, and we have a problem.” Alya moved her hands to her hips, giving her best friend a searching look. “Just tell me. You know you always feel better when you talk about it.”

Marinette pursed her lips, casting about in her mind for something that was actually plausible enough for Alya to buy as a legitimate problem.

“Well…there’s this dress I’ve been working on that’s giving me trouble…”

“Ohhh, it’s a designer problem?” Alya breathed a sigh of relief, reaching out and patting Marinette’s shoulder. “Girl, you had me scared it was cancer or something.”

Marinette snorted.

“No, nothing as serious as that. I just hate when I hit a wall when I’m working.”

“Personally, I think the walls are good from time to time—you have a bad habit of not eating or sleeping when you’re working on a big project. You know it’s okay to take breaks every now and then, right?”

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” Marinette replied, and Alya rolled her eyes before tugging her phone out of her pocket.

“At the rate you work, you will be. And soon.”

Marinette was considering how childish it would seem for her, a twenty-four year old woman, to stick her tongue out at her best friend in lieu of a good jibe, when a sudden and fierce wind rushed past, tousling her hair so that it was wildly out of place by the time the gale died. Huffing in irritation, Marinette brushed the raven locks back, tucking her hair behind her ears and brushing her earrings as she did.

At that moment, she spotted a man across the street.

There wasn’t anything remarkable, specifically, about this man. Sure, he was handsome, but it wasn’t like handsome men were rare to come by in Paris. And sure, he was tall, but he had to be the fourth tallest man in the crowd that waited at the crosswalk on the other side of the street. He was pretty, but he was normal…

At least, he was supposed to be.

But for reasons unknown, Marinette could not tear her gaze away from him.

The furrow of his brow suggested he was anxious about something; his tanned skin wrinkled into frown lines as he pouted at his phone, brushing the careful swoop of blonde hair from his face, green eyes darting around, as if he was searching for something. With what looked like a sigh, he tucked his phone into his pocket, cringed briefly to himself, and looked up.

Right into her eyes.

Something strange happened just then—the entire street emptied. Suddenly, there was nothing and no one—no people hurrying up and down the streets, no cars and the revving of engines, or honking of horns, no chatter from crowds, ringing of cell phones, no ambiance at all. This development should have alarmed Marinette, but it did not—the only thing she could focus on was that pretty, tall, blonde, tanned, green-eyed man across the street, who seemed just as transfixed by her as she was by him. His face grew rosy as they stared at each other, and the heat flooding Marinette’s face suggested that she was blushing as well, though she couldn’t pinpoint _why._ All that really registered was an odd sense of relief, and her entire body relaxed as she stared at the strange man, all anxiousness abruptly fading away.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ some deep part of her seemed to sigh as she stared at him, an idle hand absentmindedly touching one of her earrings. ‘ _I see—I was waiting for_ you.’

Before Marinette could begin to grapple with such madness, a miracle happened: the man across the street _smiled_ at her.

He carried the sun in his smile, Marinette couldn’t help but notice. It burned brightly, with so much joy, that it was almost hard to look at…and yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Despite how much her body suddenly yearned to be there, where he was, her mistake was stepping forward, as if pulled towards him by something as irrefutable as gravity.

There was a loud honking and a screech, and Marinette was abruptly yanked backwards. The sudden reverse in motion threw her off-balance; she squawked, arms flailing, before finally falling backward, right onto her rear. A few people snickered around her, and Marinette blushed in mortification as Alya leaned over her, concern and amusement warring in her hazel eyes.

“Girl, what were you _doing_ , trying to walk into a busy street? Do you have a death wish??”

“Sorry,” Marinette mumbled, accepting the helping hand Alya offered her. “Spaced out for a second.”

Alya huffed and shook her head, linking arms with Marinette as the crosswalk light finally turned green, and they were allowed to cross.

“I think you’ve worked enough for today, if you’re gonna space out to the point where you nearly get yourself _killed_. Come on, I’m taking you home.”

Normally, Marinette would protest this mothering treatment, but she couldn’t focus on Alya for the moment—her eyes were searching for the strange blonde man she had shared an even stranger connection with a moment ago. But no matter where she searched as people milled around her and Alya, she didn’t see him. He had disappeared without a trace.

Crushing disappointment welled within Marinette, and she bit her lip, blinking back tears.

Ridiculous—what was _wrong_ with her? She shouldn’t be tearing up over a guy she didn’t even know from Adam! What just happened…well, she didn’t know, but she was willing to blame it on low blood sugar, exhaustion from overwork, temporary insanity, _anything_ that made more sense.

It was absolutely ridiculous for her to be missing someone she had never met.

But even as Marinette sternly ordered herself to get a grip, in the back of her mind, a gentle whisper appeared, speaking in a voice that was not hers, a voice she had never heard before, and yet still made shivers tingle all the way down her spine:

‘ _I found you._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a lot cuter than I meant it to.
> 
> Oh well. Mission (most likely) accomplished.
> 
> ~Reyna


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed are the low-maintenance fics; they're a lot easier to update~
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

It was _not_ creeping, not really.

Adrien just found it really, _really_ hard to take his eyes off her.

Besides, it wasn’t _his_ fault they were in the same space. How was _he_ supposed to know that she worked for his father?

Gabriel was bustling; ever since Adrien had stepped into the building, he had witnessed models and designers and executives rushing about, completing their tasks with nearly the same stressed expressions on their face, as if the axe would fall at a moment’s notice if they dared to make one single misstep…the perks of having his father for a boss, Adrien suspected. At the moment, he was in one of the large meeting rooms, standing off to the side from the largest table in existence, where the staff would be seated and the meeting would commence the moment his father, Gabriel Agreste, deigned to descend from his CEO office and grace them all with his cold and indifferent presence.

But Adrien didn’t have time to stew in his occasional bitterness about his father’s attitude towards him: he was too busy staring at the raven-haired woman across the room, where she stood with a couple coworkers, sipping coffee and making murmured conversation.

She had a hard time keeping her gaze away from him, too, he noticed; she glanced over to him more than once, and every time their eyes met, they both flushed and looked away, though she always looked away quicker than he could.

He couldn’t help himself. He was probably coming off as the biggest creep ever, and he regretted it, but he legitimately could not stop looking at her. Every single one of her actions—tucking that dark hair behind her ear, chewing on her bottom lip, blinking those large blue eyes—drew his eyes to her, like a physical force he was fighting a losing battle against.

‘ _It’s her. It’s her. It’s her._ ’

The words danced to the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat, and Adrien swallowed. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but it was apparently important, because his heart leapt every time she so much as glanced his way; at this rate, it would escape out of his mouth and flop on the floor before the day was out.

“Adrien? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Nathalie,” Adrien replied, turning back to his father’s assistant—his babysitter by proxy—with a small sigh. “First, Father will introduce me to the staff, and then I’ll meet the photographers and the designers responsible for the upcoming summer line, and _then_ I can go home and get my new apartment settled.”

Nathalie adjusted her glasses, glancing away.

“About that…”

Adrien stared at her, sensing doom within those two, simple words.

“Nathalie, do _not_ tell me Father cancelled my lease.”

“He wants to discuss it with you, first, but he still feels it is unnecessary for you to rent an apartment when the mansion is more than big enough for the both of you.”

“I am _twenty-five years old,_ Nathalie,” Adrien protested, doing his damnedest not to pout and disprove his point. “I’ve been working as a model since I was ten; I have my own savings account, full of the money _I_ earned, and I have more than enough saved up to sustain my own apartment and support myself, _without_ Father’s help. There is literally no reason for us to live together anymore.”

Nathalie regarded him calmly, and Adrien frowned back at her, realizing this argument was pointless. He was effectively shooting the messenger with his fussing—after all, Nathalie had no control over what his father decided. Adrien had hoped, after years abroad, that his father would come to see him and trust him as a responsible young adult who could make his own decisions, but if he had known he’d be sent straight back to his prison the minute he returned to Paris—

Nathalie gave a short sigh, closing her eyes and turning from Adrien.

“I understand. I will…share your concerns with your father.”

Adrien let out a sigh. Rare were the times when Nathalie supported his decisions, but Adrien learned to appreciate them when he could. After all, he knew, better than anyone, just how hard it was to go against his father’s wishes…

“Thank you, Nathalie.”

Nathalie gave a nod, and then became distracted when the glowing earpiece clipped to her ear came to life, glowing and giving off a short chime. Nathalie pressed the button in the center of it, murmured “understood” to whoever she was speaking to, and then turned to address the room.

“Mr. Agreste will be here shortly. Everyone take your seats.”

The chatter died at once at these words, and there was a sudden flurry of movement as everyone sped off to their designated seats, either tossing out their unfinished pastries or cramming them into their mouths and chewing quickly. Adrien was sad to see the woman he couldn’t take his eyes off sit halfway down the table in between her companions, while Nathalie gestured that he should take the seat at the right of the head of the table, where his father would sit. It was significantly harder to stare at _her_ from here, and so Adrien resigned himself to his fate with little more than a forlorn sigh.

As soon as everyone settled and became still, Gabriel Agreste arrived, the door opened for him by Nathalie. She shadowed his every move, his footsteps echoing loudly across the floor before he assumed his throne—er, took his seat—at the head of the table. Adrien looked expectantly to his father, hoping against hope for some kind of greeting, since he had flown in yesterday while Mr. Agreste had been busy at work, neither of them having seen each other in person for a year.

But Mr. Agreste’s cool gaze was focused straight ahead of him, and Adrien bit back a sigh. Of course now wasn’t the time for pleasantries—his father was all business right now, so as far as he was concerned, Adrien could wait. Nothing new there.

“Good morning,” Mr. Agreste greeted with the air of a news anchor tasked with the duty of reporting a great tragedy. “Before we begin, I have an announcement to make: my son, Adrien, has returned from abroad to take part in Gabriel’s summer fashion show. He will be one of the key models of the men’s line, and I expect you all to treat him with the utmost respect as you’re working with him.”

Nathalie stood behind Mr. Agreste’s chair, slightly to the right, and she subtly gestured for Adrien to stand up, which he did awkwardly, in his haste to do so. He gave an embarrassed little smile as the room applauded him, his eyes immediately going to the dark-haired woman halfway down the table, who blushed and ducked her head the minute they made eye contact. Adrien sat down a moment later, his heart pumping a little harder than necessary. He tried to focus on the meeting at hand, but it was useless; he fidgeted under the table, his gaze darting down the table more often than necessary, his heart still pounding out that irregular beat:

‘ _It’s her. It’s her. It’s her._ ’

It was sweet relief when the meeting finally ended. Everyone waited until Mr. Agreste left the room before they dared to leave their seats, stretching and chattering and laughing, now that the oppressive atmosphere had lifted. Adrien spared a brief moment to be disappointed that his father hadn’t so much as said one personal word to him before his thoughts derailed, focusing on _her_ once again—ah, she was leaving. She was arm in arm with one of her companions, and as the three of them laughed and chattered, her gaze strayed, going to him once again as she exited the meeting room. Adrien took a half-step forward, intending to follow her and learn her name, at least—

“Adrien, where are you going?” Nathalie wanted to know, and Adrien halted in his tracks, glancing back at her.

“Ah…I…” he began, fully aware of the fact that he had nowhere to go with this sentence…nowhere that would make sense to anyone else, anyway. “I was just…thinking about…stretching my legs. Yeah, that was a long meeting. My knees are sore from sitting so long.”

He sucked at lying; he knew this already. And Nathalie knew it too, though she didn’t react other than a raised eyebrow to his poorly constructed excuse.

“You can stretch your legs as we meet with a few of the key staff members you’ll be working with. Follow me.”

Adrien bit back yet another sigh as he did what he was told. Though he yearned strongly—so strongly that it kind of scared him a little, in fact—to follow _her_ to wherever she was headed, he had no right to do so. After all, he had probably freaked her out with all his staring; he didn’t want to up the ‘creep’ level by stalking her around the work place. That would just not do.

So Adrien grinned and bore it, stuffing his hands in his pockets, twisting the ring he wore on the fourth finger of his right hand in an agitated fashion.

Gabriel was a large company, but Adrien wouldn’t let that deter him. He would see her again.

He had to.

 

* * *

 

Adrien’s fervent yet barely understood desire came to fruition much sooner than he expected: he was just about ready to tear his hair out with all the people he had met so far, photographers fawning over him, exclaiming how beautiful he was; models, both male and female, low and high-key flirting with him every chance they got; designers tripping over themselves to get in his good graces already, assuring him with the utmost confidence that he would not be disappointed by their clothing choices for him. Adrien gave them all his model smile, nodded and played along, politely discouraged the flirting, and complimented everyone’s work when he could. All business and no play made Adrien a cranky boy, however, and he was two seconds away from telling Nathalie that if he had to greet _one more person_ he was going to scream when they passed one of the open offices, and a voice stopped Adrien dead in his tracks.

“Vera, you can just leave that there, I’ll get to it later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You’ve been staying too long lately anyway—isn’t your girlfriend worried about you?”

“Ha ha, a little, but—”

“No ‘buts’. You’re leaving at six sharp today, and not a minute later.”

A new voice laughed as Adrien dared to peek into the office, glancing around. It was a beautiful space, almost as if he had walked into the lobby of a boutique: large bay windows lit the space, flooding it with light, and ornate furniture consumed the floor, from a comfortable looking _chaise longue_ to an elegant, mahogany desk that sat off to the right, covered in personal effects and completely ignored, for the three women in the room were at identical sewing machines at the back of the room instead, swathes of fabric draped over the desks, their backs to the door, which allowed Adrien to go unnoticed.

“You heard Boss Lady, V,” said the woman with dark skin and purple hair, grinning at the pale red head at the middle sewing machine, hovering uncertainly over her work. “If you don’t go home on time, you’re as good as fired.”

“I didn’t say _that,_ ” said the dark-haired woman at the machine to the right, closest to the desk. Adrien watched as she turned to her companions, her pink lips puckered into a _ridiculously_ attractive pout. “I just want to make sure Vera gets enough rest. The next few weeks are gonna be hectic, so you need to sleep while you can.”

“Says Ms. Workaholic herself,” snorted the purple-haired woman with a roll of her dark eyes. The dark-haired woman frowned.

“That’s different, Rhys—I’m the boss. I have to work hard so you two don’t have to.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around,” Rhys teased. The dark-haired boss shrugged and grinned, and Vera laughed.

Adrien felt that he could just stand there and listen to this idle banter all day, just to get more insight on _her_ from her two colleagues, Rhys and Vera…why had neither of them said _her_ name yet?

“Adrien?”

Adrien jumped as Nathalie suddenly joined him; he had quite forgotten her existence. The sound of her voice alerted the women in the room of his presence; he got a vague impression of startled faces from the other two before he inevitably focused on _her_ , the way her eyes widened, pink lips parting in surprise, her cheeks reddening at the sight of him. Adrien felt rather warm around the collar himself, and he was silently thankful when Nathalie decided to take charge of the situation.

“Ah: this is the head department of our women’s fashion line,” Nathalie informed him with a curt nod to the women inside. “It isn’t strictly necessary for you to meet them, but—”

It was an in, and Adrien seized it. Without waiting for express permission, he brushed past Nathalie and strode into the room, straight for _her._ He reached her before he could think of anything witty or profound to say, and as he stared down at her, noting the tiny features of her face that he hadn’t been able to take in before—like the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks—he felt his mouth go dry, and all he could think to say without sounding like a complete idiot was:

“Hi.”

‘Hi’? _‘Hi’?!_

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since he spotted her across the street yesterday, and once he _finally_ got the chance to talk to her, all he could think to say was ‘ _hi_ ’?

That’s it—once he got home, he was taking a hit out on himself. It had to be done. There was no way he could come back from this.

Instead of laughing at him like the idiot that he was, however, her face just turned redder, and she ducked her gaze away from him, abruptly shy.

“Hello,” she replied softly, glancing up at him as she nervously brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Oh no.

_She was so cute._

Adrien floundered, his heart threatening to fail, when Nathalie stepped in once again with a slight clearing of her throat.

“Adrien, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s the senior executive of the women’s fashion line here at Gabriel.”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette.

His heart went into double-time.

‘ _It’s her it’s her it’s her it’s her—_ ’

“It’s nice to meet you,” Adrien said sincerely for the first time that day. He stretched out a hand, worn from being shaken all day, and yet he couldn’t resist the opportunity to touch her, wondering if her skin was as soft as he imagined—

God, he _was_ turning into a creep.

‘ _Get a grip, Agreste,_ ’ Adrien sternly ordered himself as Marinette stood up, removing the pincushion strapped around her wrist. She reached forward, taking his offered hand—

Adrien had no idea what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this: the moment their skin made contact, a strange current passed through him, seemingly emanating from _her._ In that current, there was warmth, familiarity…and a strange new emotion that made Adrien’s heart throb, the force of it nearly flooring him. What _was_ this?

Marinette stared up at him, and Adrien somehow knew that she was experiencing everything he was, that she felt what he felt, and that she didn’t have a ready explanation for it either; it just _was._

‘ _Who_ are _you?_ ’

Adrien blinked.

Marinette’s lips hadn’t moved, but he still _heard_ her, as clearly as if she _had_ spoken out loud. And he knew it was her—he couldn’t mistake that voice, and the question burned in her eyes as well, those bluebell eyes full of stars and fire and questions…

The answer came naturally, without Adrien having to even give it a second thought—

‘ _I’m yours._ ’

Marinette’s eyes grew impossibly wider, her face putting the reddest of roses to shame, and Adrien knew she had heard him, though neither of them had uttered a single word.

Another sharp cough from Nathalie, and the moment was broken. They each hastily withdrew their hands, embarrassed.

“Um…th-this is Vera Durand and Rhys Moreau. They work under me,” Marinette introduced her colleagues. Vera smiled, friendly enough, but there was something distinctly predatory in Rhys’ grin.

“An opportunity many would kill for, am I right, Adrien?” She teased, cackling a moment later at the horrified look Marinette shot her.

“She’s kidding,” Marinette clarified hurriedly, and Adrien didn’t blame her; Nathalie was looking less amused than usual at such an insinuation.

“Yes, well, we must be off,” Nathalie said briskly, nodding a curt farewell to Marinette before she turned on her heel, heading for the doors. “Come, Adrien.”

“Right…”

As Adrien reluctantly followed Nathalie, he glanced back at Marinette, the regret that he had only _spoken_ a few words to her weighing heavily upon him. It was also mysterious that, somehow, they had communicated without speaking…but he couldn’t really focus on why that was when he wasn’t actually _bothered_ by such a strange occurrence. He tried to be, but the only thing that kept coming back to him was the fact that her name was Marinette, she was here, it was _her._

‘ _It’s her. It’s her. It’s her._ ’

Again, Adrien had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

But damn it if he wasn’t going to do whatever it took to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggggh, they're making me sick already. And nothing's even happened yet.
> 
> R.I.P. me. XP
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this IS still an assassination plot focused on one person, I dedicate this slightly-longer-than-usual chapter to BullySquaddess for her birthday. Happy 20th, Bully!
> 
> I hope the rest of you enjoy as well! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The sun was barely up, tinting the velvet black sky dark blue, dotted with a few fading stars that still dared to shine as brightly as they still could, even if the moon was already making its retreat for the day. Sleepy customers kept shuffling into the small cafe, either staring off into space like zombies or slumping on any flat surface, all waiting for the caffeine that would inject some adrenaline into their systems. Marinette would normally be one of them, if she wasn’t so wired already.

She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.

‘ _You’re not going crazy,_ ’ she told herself firmly, crossing one leg over the other with some difficulty; the table she was occupying was tiny, and less than accommodating. Still, it was better than the nervous bouncing of her leg that she had been dealing with for the past five minutes. ‘ _It’s fine. You’ve dreamed about_ lots _of people before that you barely know. You’re not crazy. It’s_ fine.’

It was not fine. This was the third night—the _third night_ —that she had dreamt about _him._ The third night she envisioned that strange and lovely field, with the single tree providing them shade. The third night _he_ had been there with her, smiling a gentle, peaceful and—dare she think it?— _loving_ smile that made her both weak and strong at the same time. The third night Marinette had felt so at peace and connected with everything around her, only to wake up the next morning dazed, disoriented, and somehow disappointed.

And she was nowhere near the answer as to _why_.

Marinette groaned under her breath, pressing a hand to her face.

This was insanity—she didn’t even _know_ the guy! And she hadn’t seen him since he was introduced to her by Nathalie…since he had shaken her hand…since that inexplicable exchange between them occurred…

‘ _Who are you?_ ’

‘ _I’m yours._ ’

Marinette _hated_ herself for blushing. That was such an incredibly cheesy line! And, in the proper context, it was creepy as hell! _She did not know this man!_ The only thing she knew about him was his name and his occupation: Adrien Agreste, supermodel extraordinaire. And that was _definitely_ not enough to justify the swooning that went down when she replayed that phrase in her mind after the fact, over and over again—

What _was_ this, anyway? Marinette had never shown any signs of clairvoyance in her life, nor did she believe such things truly existed. So why could she hear this man’s voice in her head? What the hell was going on here??

“Number seven: Large chai tea latte!” Called one of the baristas from behind the counter, and Marinette sighed in relief. Oh, thank god. If she sat here and thought any more without some kind of caffeine in her system, her brain was going to shut down in protest.

Resolving to put the matter out of her mind for now—for she had been obsessing about it for _three days straight_ —Marinette got up and approached the counter, her hand reaching for the promised latte—

Another hand closed around the travel cup just as hers did, large, tanned fingers accidentally lacing themselves with hers.

“Oh, sorry—” Marinette began, looking up just as a deep voice said, “Ah, pardon—”

Blue met green.

Marinette froze, quite certain that if it weren’t for her shock, her knees would’ve given out on her.

Because Adrien- _freaking_ -Agreste was standing right next to her, blinking wide green eyes as he stared down at her, dumbstruck and blushing, his fingers still entwined with hers over her latte.

‘ _You have_ got _to be_ freaking kidding me!’

Adrien blinked, and Marinette remembered too late about the strange connection of thought they seemed to share, and she couldn’t even curse herself for it in her mind, _damn it._

Before anything else could be exchanged between them—mentally or verbally—one of the baristas appeared, clearing his throat.

“Uh, folks? This latte’s for number seven only.”

“I’m number seven,” Marinette told him, pulling out her receipt with the large black number at the bottom to prove it. Adrien gave her a funny look, his hand still unmoving from her latte as he fished something out from his pocket with his free hand, displaying a receipt with a number seven at the bottom.

“So am I,” he announced, looking just as bemused as Marinette felt. They both looked to the barista, who grimaced.

“Uh…there must’ve been a mix-up in the system or something. I’m sorry, I’ll get you another beverage immediately…er, which one of you is ordering…?”

“I am,” Marinette and Adrien replied at the same time, turning to give each other surprised looks moments later.

“You can have this one,” Marinette insisted, pushing the travel cup towards him, but Adrien was already shaking his head, nudging it back towards her, their fingers still laced together.

“I can wait for a new one.”

Marinette frowned.

“Don’t be ridiculous—this one’s still fresh, and it’s sitting right in front of you.”

“You grabbed it first.”

“We grabbed it at the same time!”

“Doesn’t matter—you can have it.”

“Why can’t _you_ have it?”

“Folks?” The barista interrupted them, giving the pair of them odd looks. “It’s really just a drink that we can make in about thirty seconds. Does it really matter which of you gets it first?”

Marinette felt herself blush. This… _was_ a stupid thing to argue about, wasn’t it…?

‘ _Take it._ ’

The little voice nudging her in the back of her brain did not startle her; it was alarming how _familiar_ it felt instead. Marinette glanced up at Adrien, finding his gaze focused on her, as if she were the only other person in existence. Marinette’s face grew hotter.

“I can wait,” Adrien assured her, out loud this time, the corners of his mouth twitching into a gentle smile. “Go ahead. Please.”

Slowly, so very slowly, Adrien untwined his fingers from hers, his hand sliding away from the cup, leaving it in Marinette’s possession. And she did not argue with him. She just accepted the travel cup, dragging it slightly closer towards her.

Adrien’s smile grew, showing off his pearly whites, and Marinette _had_ to look away; it was like gazing directly into the sun. And with that, she lost the staring contest. _Damn_ it.

“One more large chai latte, please,” Adrien requested, and the barista rushed off to make it. Marinette dawdled, blowing into the mouth piece of the top of the travel cup, trying to cool down her chai enough for a sip. She didn’t know why she wasn’t just going back to her seat; if she hesitated, someone was bound to come and fall asleep on it while she waited. She tried to convince herself it was simply because she wanted to make sure her order was right, but into the fifth cautious sip of her latte, Marinette had to admit that she was stalling.

And the reason, inexplicable though he was, was standing right beside her, waiting patiently for his own chai tea latte. It appeared their choices in caffeine intake were similar…

‘ _So?_ ’ Marinette reminded herself with a small shake of her head, nearly burning her tongue as she drank her chai a little too fast. ‘ _It doesn’t mean anything that you like the same drink in the morning! Get a hold of yourself, for god’s sake!_ ’

…Wait. He couldn’t hear that, could he? Oh god, could he _hear_ her ranting to herself? Oh god, oh god, how humiliating, she didn’t even know how this worked yet, but if he could hear every stupid thing her mind spouted—

Mortified, Marinette chanced a glance over at him…but he wasn’t looking at her, instead watching the barista behind the counter make his drink. His gaze flickered to her a split second later, his face warming when he caught her watching him. He gave her a slight smile, his eyes bright and curious, as if he was flattered by her attention. _God,_ he was cute.

Marinette could feel her body yearning towards him, wanting to take a step closer, to be nearer…but Marinette stayed stubbornly where she was, glancing away again and sipping her chai. Why couldn’t she just make herself _move_ back to her table and mind her own business? What was wrong with her?

“There you go. Sorry about the delay,” said the barista as he handed Adrien his fresh drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien assured him with a smile so dazzling that the barista paused, blinking in a stunned fashion for a moment. Marinette sympathized with him completely.

“Is it how you wanted it?” She asked off-handedly as Adrien pulled the top off his travel cup, blowing across the surface of his chai before he took a sip. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to savor it, before nodding and smiling in satisfaction.

“Yep. It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

They paused, eyeing one another for a moment.

“…Do you—”

“…Can we—”

“What?” They asked, speaking in unison once again. Marinette felt herself blush, and Adrien laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um…can we talk?” He finished, giving Marinette a smile so shy and hopeful and adorable that it should be _illegal._ Marinette felt her heart stutter, and she could only stammer out a squeaked,

“S-sure…”

His smile grew, and Marinette hastily turned her gaze from it, lest she be blinded. Stumbling a little, she led the way back to the table she had been occupying, and Adrien slid into the seat across from her. Their knees bumped together, and they each murmured apologies, trying to find new positions that would not involve them touching each other…only to quickly learn that it was impossible; Adrien’s legs were just too long, and this table was just too damnably small. They had to settle for sitting unnaturally straight, their knees crammed together under the table. Marinette did her damnedest to remain calm; if she started freaking out within her own mind, he might hear it, and then she’d _really_ be embarrassed.

For a few minutes, Marinette couldn’t even bring herself to look at him; she was grappling with her impulses, which were getting _ridiculous_ —her hands itched, craving to touch the pretty man in front of her, to stroke those high cheekbones of his, to run her fingertips through that golden hair, thumbs aching to press into what were undoubtedly soft lips—

Marinette clenched her hands around her travel cup and sternly reminded herself, once again, to _behave._ This madness would not be tolerated; in a normal situation, wanting to touch someone like that—a _stranger_ —would not be allowed. And it was _creepy._ She couldn’t touch him like that, she could _not_ , no matter how badly her body was straining towards him, yearning to be closer still…

Marinette tore her gaze from the window, catching Adrien staring at her. He cradled his chin in his hand, giving her that look once again that suggested she was the only other person in existence, aside from him. That kind of laser focus was embarrassing and thrilling at the same time, and blood surged to Marinette’s face once again, forcing her into speech.

“Wh-what?” She stammered, almost wanting to shrink down in her seat—ah, but Adrien’s knees prevented her from doing so. The most she could do was duck her head, though she kept his gaze, unable to look away.

Adrien blinked, seeming to register her embarrassment. He glanced away for a moment, golden brow furrowing, before his gaze snapped to her once again, eyes speculative.

‘ _You’re beautiful._ ’

The voice— _his_ voice—whispered in her mind, originating once again from the back, though it laced itself through her head, as if his voice had always been there, buried, just waiting to be exhumed…

And the catalyst seemed to be the moment their eyes met for the first time.     

Marinette could feel her face growing hotter; she would surely pass out from so much blood rushing to her head at this rate.

‘ _So are you,_ ’ her thoughts responded automatically, without her permission, and immediately she wanted to _die_ rather than suffer the embarrassment. Clearly, there was not enough caffeine in her system if she was going to be thinking embarrassing thoughts like that—

Marinette’s self-flogging was postponed the moment she caught sight of Adrien Agreste’s face lighting up like a traffic light. His face positively _exploded_ in red, and she could just make out the beginnings of what was sure to be a very silly grin before he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to hide it from view.

Marinette stared at him, watching the blush surpass the swoop of his blond bangs…and then she snickered.

“What? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” She teased, unable to help herself—how could she, when that reaction was _just so cute?_ As Adrien visibly struggled to get himself together, she added, “Aren’t you a model? You’re used to being told you’re beautiful, aren’t you?”

Adrien glanced away from her, rubbing the back of his neck, his face still bright red.

“I-it’s different when you say it,” he mumbled. Marinette stayed quiet, supposing he had a point: Alya constantly gushed over how pretty she found Marinette, and though Marinette paid her just as many compliments, she noticed the distinct difference in reaction when Nino called Alya beautiful; there was stupid grinning involved there, too.

Marinette took a careful sip of her chai, considering…before she let herself think the words that had just begun to form in her mind.

‘ _But I didn’t say it._ ’

This brought Adrien’s gaze back to her, and Marinette knew that he had heard her. She frowned at this. So…could he sometimes hear her, and sometimes not hear her? What was the difference, exactly?

Needing some sense of normalcy, Marinette chose to speak out loud this time, leaning forward and lowering her voice for fear of sleepy eavesdroppers.

“…What _is_ this?” She lifted a hand to gesture between them, though she knew her meaning was clear already. Adrien’s brow creased for a moment, considering.

‘ _I don’t know,_ ’ came his honest, mental answer. Marinette frowned at him.

“Then…what do we do about it?”

‘ _What do you mean?_ ’

“Will you _talk_ to me, please?” Marinette huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose after a moment. “It’s too early in the morning for me to be having this many voices in my head.”

Adrien cringed.

“Sorry.” He lifted his travel mug to his lips, watching her. Belatedly, Marinette realized he expected an answer to his question, and she dropped her gaze to her travel cup for a moment, pursing her lips in deliberation.

“Well…this is crazy, isn’t it?” She asked, glancing up to him for confirmation. “How we can…can hear each other. And…the other stuff.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, as if asking her to elaborate. Marinette frowned at him. Was he being dense on purpose?

“You know, the…reactions, and…stuff.”

‘ _And the dreams,_ ’ she added mentally and without meaning to. When Adrien stared at her, Marinette bit her lip, and was unable to suppress the stream of mental cursing within her own mind. This appeared to amuse Adrien; his lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile.

“You dream about me?” He asked, sounding indecently pleased. Marinette’s frown evolved into a scowl. Oh, sure, _that_ part he wanted to discuss out loud.

“Well, you make me!” She fussed, irritated when the amusement in those green eyes only grew. “Whatever this… _thing_ is between us makes me think and feel things I wouldn’t be thinking or feeling! I mean, we don’t even know each other! Why are we able to hear each other’s thoughts? And _why_ do I miss you when you’re not around? What is going on?!”

After a moment, Marinette realized the people nearest them were staring, and that she had been speaking a little too loudly. As her face was lit aflame, Adrien merely watched her, his expression suddenly impassive. It would be disconcerting…if it weren’t for the strange current of tension she could just _feel_ from him, as if he was holding himself back from some great secret he was just bursting to share. After a moment, he tilted his head to the side.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Marinette?”

An unreasonable thrill shot through Marinette at the sound of her name on his tongue. She fought the resulting blush, pausing to consider his question.

“You mean, the concept of previous lives? Don’t people believe you can be reincarnated as animals and trees and stuff, too?”

Adrien snorted softly, mirth making his eyes sparkle. Marinette glanced away, annoyed that her heart was pumping double the amount it should be, considering she was just _sitting_ here.

“Though I don’t know about the animals and trees bit, that’s the general idea, yes.”

“Well…I don’t know,” Marinette replied, frowning in thought as she tucked stray hair behind her ear. “I don’t remember anything like a previous life…”

Adrien studied her for a moment, and then nodded.

“That’s fair. It is a strange concept to those unfamiliar with it.”

“Is it something you believe in?”

Adrien’s gaze zeroed in on her face once again, but Marinette made herself look back at him, refusing to lose the staring contest this time around. She noticed when Adrien’s cheeks flushed, but his smile distracted her almost immediately, and she couldn’t even properly tease him about it. Damn it.

“Not until fairly recently.” He took another sip of his tea, letting Marinette consider that, before he set down his travel cup, his gaze more intense than ever. “Next question: do you believe in the concept of soulmates?”

The humming tension originating from him suddenly increased a few notches, and it made Marinette sit up straighter, her spine tingling as she stared at the pretty model sitting across from her. That…that was a loaded question, wasn’t it? She wasn’t even sure _why_ , but…

“Uh…” She cleared her throat and began again, hoping to sound a little smarter this time. “I mean…I’m sure there’s someone out there for everybody, though finding the perfect fit sounds like it’s a little unreasonable…w-why do you…ask…?”

Abruptly, Marinette realized she knew why. The question was a formality; she could _feel_ why he asked. The tension that pulsed between them reached a fever pitch, and though Adrien glanced away from her, as if he wanted to take a moment to gather his thoughts, they slipped out anyway, hanging in the air between them, though not a single word was spoken out loud:

‘ _Because I think you’re mine. And I’m yours._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho, things have escalated!
> 
> Things can only look up from here, right?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~lmao but how many of you are still that naive at this point? :D~~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The person whom I've been attempting to assassinate with this fic has been feeling a little down, so I thought a "cheer up" post was in order.
> 
> ...What? Don't give me that look.
> 
> This whole fic still has malicious intent. Malicious, I say!
> 
> *Ahem* Enjoy~ <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The café was gradually becoming fuller as the sun climbed higher into the sky, the conversations around Adrien less muted, more awake. But there was nothing but dead silence at this table he sat at, staring at the beautiful, dark-haired woman across the tiny table from him, who stared back at him, her blue eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. Even while shocked, she was unreasonably pretty. How could Adrien expect to get anything done with someone like _her_ around?

He cringed at her prolonged stare, the embarrassment he’d been fighting to stave off surging to the surface at last.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, an apologetic note in his voice. She— _Marinette_ —blinked once, apparently brought back to earth at the sound of his voice.

“…You didn’t say it,” she pointed out weakly, as if it was the only thing she could think of to say. Adrien gave a half-shrug, feeling a new kind of tension thrum between him and Marinette, who was still looking at him like that, like…

“…You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” He asked, watching her bite her bottom lip, her eyes glancing away, looking unsure.

“No,” she mumbled, but her blush was very telling, as was the growing incredulity he could feel emanating from her. He locked his jaw, something inside him clenching in an unpleasant way. He had been _trying_ to be careful, trying not to scare her with this seemingly impossible theory on this unfathomable situation they found themselves thrust into, with no explanation whatsoever. He knew it sounded insane, that there shouldn’t be such a thing as a soulmate connection, he _knew_ that…but how else could he possibly explain it? How else could he make sense of why he felt so strongly for this woman in front of him, who was by all accounts a virtual stranger? How else could he clarify this throbbing of his heart that sped up of its own accord whenever he was near her, as if it knew something he didn’t?

How else could he possibly explain the crushing disappointment than began to take over when he _felt_ the way Marinette felt about this situation—disbelieving at best, horrified at worst?

“You _do_ think I’m crazy,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion; a defense mechanism. A useless one at that, since Marinette could probably sense how he was feeling, due to the unexplainable connection between them…

Marinette cringed, chagrin tinting her expression and the air around them.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she insisted, her brows furrowed as she looked at him. “I just think you’re…confused. I mean…soulmates? There’s no such thing—well, not the kind of movie plot or romance book sort of ‘soulmate’ bond you’re thinking of, anyway…”

‘ _…Then what’s_ your _explanation for this?_ ’ Adrien wondered, purposefully putting his words into thoughts this time. Marinette blushed and looked away from him; her hand shook a little as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, he couldn’t help but notice.

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she continued to avoid his gaze. “But…there’s a rational explanation. There _has_ to be.”

Adrien leaned over, catching Marinette’s eye again. He didn’t know what kind of expression he was making, but the way she looked at him—the way her expression crumpled, and the way he could feel sudden guilt rushing through her—made him believe that it was a pitiful one. He tried to rearrange it into polite indifference, or even his model smile, but the way Marinette continued to worry her bottom lip made him think that he wasn’t quite successful…or that even if he smiled, his true feelings would always be obvious to her. No thanks to…whatever _this_ was.

“…And if there isn’t?” He questioned softly, forcing himself to voice the words, since thinking them at her appeared to make her uncomfortable.

Something changed in Marinette’s eyes as she looked at him—a glint of something. Her lips pursed, her brow furrowed, and abruptly, even without feeling it, Adrien identified the change: stubbornness.

An abrupt feeling of steel slammed down between them, leaving the atmosphere frigid. Adrien sat back, startled at the sudden change, acutely aware that now, the only feelings he felt were his own, the only thoughts, his own. What happened? What _was_ this?

“There has to be,” Marinette repeated herself, dropping her gaze to her travel cup. Her nails were digging into it, Adrien couldn’t help but notice. “This is the real world. Things like ‘soulmates’ or whatever don’t really exist.”

Adrien stared at her, nonplussed. Was she…actually _denying_ the connection between them? Is that what this sudden frost meant—that her denial was somehow…shutting Adrien out?

“Marinette—” he tried, acting without thinking; he reached across the table to take one of her hands away from her abused travel cup, but she let go of the cup, moving her hands off the table completely. Her eyes failed to meet his, and the cold atmosphere between them settled and solidified.

It broke Adrien’s heart—did she really detest the thought of having a mysterious connection with him so much?

Adrien swallowed, anguish flooding through him. This was ridiculous; what was with these unmanageable emotions? It wasn’t like he hadn’t faced rejection before—his father was _Gabriel Agreste._ And Marinette _did_ have a point: this connection was nonsensical, something that shouldn’t exist.

But it _did._

And she was rejecting it. Which meant that, obviously, she would rather ignore its existence than try and make sense of it, to see where it led.

Instead of trying to understand why the powers that be had decided that they might be meant for each other…it seemed like Marinette would rather not know why at all.

She would rather not know _him_ at all.

“…I see,” Adrien replied quietly, dropping his gaze from Marinette and shifting, extracting himself from the tiny table. His body cried out in rebellion, already missing the warmth that Marinette’s body heat provided, but he forced himself to ignore it, straightening his jacket with his free hand, his other clutching his unfinished chai perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary. He turned, giving Marinette his back. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you then, Mar—Miss Dupain-Cheng. I…I won’t bother you about this again.”

“Adrien…”

The soft call stayed him, made his legs lock in place, even without him making the conscious decision to do so. Adrien cursed in his mind. This was unfair—why did she still have power over him if she didn’t even believe what was happening between them in the first place?

He waited, stock still, his back still to Marinette, waiting for her to say anything, _anything_ that would displace this awful frost between them—

She said nothing.

Nothing, except for…

“…Have a good day, Mr. Agreste.”

‘Mr. Agreste’. How he hated to be called that. Usually, this was where he made the joke about Mr. Agreste being his father, and insist upon being called Adrien.

Usually.

Adrien took a deep, deep breath, and let it out slowly, counting the seconds. When he reached ten, he let the rest of it out in a whoosh, and then…he turned and gave Marinette his model smile.

“You too, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he bade, with nothing more than that artificial smile and a slight nod. Marinette returned the nod, though it seemed she was the type that could not force a smile when she didn’t feel it. Her eyes were tight, and she watched him anxiously, still chewing that bottom lip of hers…

Adrien turned around and made his numb legs walk forward, carrying him to the door of the café. The sun shone merrily, warming the otherwise crisp autumn air. It would be warm this afternoon, much warmer than it had been all week. Adrien wouldn’t need his jacket later. That would be nice…

Adrien shivered, drawing his jacket closer around him. He was cold, but it had nothing to do with the temperature around him. This sudden frost between him and the woman with the haunting blue eyes was unbearable. No, that wasn’t the unbearable part: it was the fact that Miss Dupain-Cheng— _Marinette_ —it was the fact that she had put this frost here in the first place. Willingly.

The only thing Adrien knew about Marinette was her name…and yet she possessed him, heart, mind, body, and soul. And she didn’t even care.

Adrien took a sip from his now cold chai in an attempt to clear the lump he could feel rising in his throat. It didn’t help.

He had a feeling nothing would.

 

* * *

 

Guilt was a violent, _very_ unreasonable emotion.

No matter how hard Marinette tried to work, no matter how important it was that she finish this dress, all she could think about, all she could _see_ was Adrien’s disappointed look, the heartbreak in his eyes.

_She_ had done that to him. And her conscience wasn’t about to let her forget it.

‘ _Your fault your fault your fault your fault…_ ’

Marinette huffed, pressing her fingertips into her temples, hoping against hope that she could massage the pounding in her head away. But it was like a war chant, her body rebelling over what she had done to Adrien this morning.

‘What she had done’…god, was it _really_ so terrible for her to be honest with him? Was she really so awful for not immediately subscribing to the crazy—yes, _crazy_ —explanation he had for why they were…connected, for want of a better word? Did it make her a bad person just because she hadn’t gone along with that ‘explanation’? Did she deserve her head on a pike for causing those beautiful green eyes of his to harbor such anguish? Did she really deserve to be _punished_ for being _honest_ with him?

Her body seemed to think so; it was restless and uncooperative today, refusing to focus on anything, continuing to dredge up Adrien’s look of heartbreak when Marinette rejected him.

Ridiculous—he had taken it stoically enough. So _why_ was she feeling like she deserved to be flogged just for disappointing him? What was _with_ her?

“Yo, Boss Lady!”

Marinette glanced up, breathing a sigh of relief. A distraction, thank _god._

“What is it, Rhys?” Marinette asked, turning to find her purple-haired co-worker in the doorway, frowning. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping with a photo shoot today?”

“Yeah, but Jules sent me here to come get you,” Rhys replied, raising an arched brow. “Apparently there’s some problem with the dress she needs you to solve.”

Marinette frowned.

“A problem?” She asked, rising to her feet. “I checked that dress over before it was approved for the shoot. Even Mr. Agr—”

Marinette faltered, her tongue tripping over the name ‘Agreste’, as Adrien’s face once again invaded her consciousness, his model smile failing to hide the hurt in his eyes—

“Marinette?” Rhys asked, bringing Marinette back to earth. She huffed and shook her head at the questioning look Rhys was giving her, endeavoring to finish her sentence.

“…Mr. Agreste himself approved the dress,” she finished, clearly and concisely. “What problem could there possibly be?”

“I dunno, girl,” Rhys replied with a shrug, reminding Marinette irresistibly of Alya, as she often did. “I just know I was sent to come get you.” She smirked. “Don’t be mad at me; I just work here.”

Marinette snorted, then reached over to tap Vera on the shoulder, who was wearing headphones. She lowered them with a questioning look, and Marinette quickly explained the situation.

“Can you hold down the fort while I’m gone?” Marinette teased, and Vera smiled good-naturedly.

“Sure, I’ve got it. But what’s wrong with the dress?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out. Be back in a bit.”

Marinette followed Rhys to one of the higher floors of Gabriel, where the photo shoots took place. As they walked, she frowned, fiddling with her sewing case. There was no chance that there could be anything wrong with that dress. Marinette had made sure of it, and it even had _Gabriel Agreste’s_ approval. Perhaps a stitch ripped somewhere due to rough handling…but then again, Rhys would have just told her that. So what was this mysterious problem with the dress that Jules the photographer was having…?

“I’m back!” Rhys announced, stepping ahead of Marinette into the room. Marinette had one foot inside when she froze in her tracks, her eyes widening automatically.

Adrien Agreste stood in the middle of the back drop for the photo shoot, _glowing._

Marinette inwardly chastised herself for the wild thoughts of a fallen angel invading her mind—it was just the lights and the make-up he was clearly wearing. She _really_ needed to get a grip.

The white suit he wore didn’t help dispel her imagery, though, nor did the white trench coat that was draped over his shoulders, as if it might be wings at rest. His hair was slicked back, and he looked _remarkably_ like his father that way…though the slight pout Marinette could just detect twisting his lips suggested that he might not be happy with such a style choice. That, or he was still posing.

As Marinette hesitated by the door, he suddenly caught sight of her. Surprise rounded his eyes for a moment, and Marinette couldn’t say she blamed him. He must have thought he wouldn’t see her again today; though they technically worked at the same company, it was a _big_ one. She watched, another shard of guilt piercing her heart as his expression inevitably fell, before he seemed to remember himself and forced another smile.

She really wished he wouldn’t. The fact that he was smiling just to make her more comfortable only made her less so.

“No word from Evi yet?” Rhys asked, the sound of her voice tearing Marinette’s attention away from the model with angelic good looks glowing in the center of the room.

“No,” clucked Jules the photographer, pushing dark curls out of her face as her expression soured. “And we really can’t delay any longer!”

“Excuse me,” Marinette spoke up, approaching the two women with a frown, “but I was called because there’s some sort of problem with the dress?”

Jules blinked nonplussed hazel eyes.

“What? No, there’s no problem with the dress itself! It’s beautiful! The problem is that we have no one to _fill_ the dress! I’m short one model!”

It was Marinette’s turn to blink in confusion.

“What…? But, that’s not—”

“ _Well,_ we happen to be in luck, Jules!” Rhys enthused, talking over Marinette. “It just so happens that _Marinette_ here—” she clapped a hand around Marinette’s shoulders with a sly look, “—is the same size as Evi! So _she_ can wear the dress!”

“What?!” Marinette squawked, shocked. What the hell was Rhys up to?!

Rhys merely gave her a wink as Jules took a step back, eyeing her up and down.

“Hmm,” hummed Jules, twisting her head this way and that as she inspected Marinette. “That dark hair…it _could_ work…” She stole a glance at her watch and sighed. “Oh, what the hell. We might as well give it a try.”

“What?!” Marinette questioned again, startled that Jules was actually going along with this. “B-but—I’m not a model! I’m a seamstress!”

“Honey, there’s nothing to modeling—you just have to stand there and look pretty,” Jules insisted with a careless wave of her hand, only to freeze when Adrien cleared his throat pointedly. “Oh! Uh, not that that doesn’t present its _own_ challenges, of course!” She hurriedly added, though Adrien looked more amused than offended to Marinette.

“There are other models in the building that would do a better job than I would,” Marinette insisted, her tone becoming just a bit dry. Did they _not_ work for the biggest fashion company in all of France, after all? “Hold on, let me go get—”

“No can do—we’re already running behind schedule,” Jules said, suddenly business-like as she stepped forward, grabbed Marinette by the shoulders, and steered her over to the wardrobe section of the large room. “Sorry for the last-minute notice; I’ll see to it that you’re properly compensated.”

“But I’m _not_ —” Marinette began to protest once again, but clearly her objections were falling on deaf ears; Jules rushed off to prep her camera, and Rhys followed Marinette to the wardrobe section, grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. Marinette glared at her as the wardrobe assistants stepped forward, bringing her behind a changing screen.

“I hope you know that you’re in trouble because of this,” Marinette said sternly through the changing screen. Rhys’ cackle illustrated that she was not the least bit sorry about this development.

“Just leave enough money in my paycheck for me to pay rent and buy groceries this month, and we’ll be square.”

Marinette huffed. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised—it had been a while since Rhys had last pulled some sort of prank. The quiet had been making Marinette nervous. Still, it was with great reluctance (and much embarrassment) that she watched herself transform from mild-mannered seamstress Marinette into… _whoa._

The prep work took a surprisingly short amount of time, considering what the wardrobe and hair and make-up department had just turned her into: a midnight goddess. Marinette only vaguely knew the theme of this photo shoot, having been asked to design the dress herself—a floor-length flowing gown made of midnight blue silk that gradually blended into an inky black, with a sheer layer of black organza sewn over the skirt of the dress, dotted with tiny little rhinestones, as if someone had taken the night sky and woven it into evening wear. Marinette was particularly proud of this design, though she never dreamed she’d be _wearing_ it, or that it’d even look _good_ on her, despite the fact that it was indeed her size. And with her hair taken out of its sensible bun and artfully tousled, dark, dramatic make-up covering her face, she looked…she looked…

“ _Perfect!_ ” Jules squealed in delight once Marinette was led back to the photo shoot area; she was startled by Jules’ enthusiasm so much that she almost fell over in those thin, tall heels they put her in. “Oh my goodness, you look _gorgeous!_ Wow, are you _sure_ you’re not in the wrong line of fashion work?”

“I’d never survive being a model,” Marinette said with a flat look. “My parents own a bakery, so I was raised to love bread too much.”

There was a snort nearby, and Marinette glanced over to find Adrien glancing away, the back of his hand pressed to his face, the shaking of his shoulders telling. She was instantly saddened by him covering up his laughter, and then annoyed at her sadness.

‘ _Get a_ grip, _Dupain-Cheng!_ ’

“Okay, looks like all the pieces are in place! Let’s start! Marinette, go stand with Adrien,” Jules directed, her business persona returning in an instant. Marinette huffed. She didn’t like that she had been strong-armed into this photoshoot—there was work back in her studio that she _should_ be working on right now. But at this point, it wasn’t actually worth the effort to put the protest in, was it?

Resigned to this fate, thanks to the meddling of her underling Rhys, Marinette trudged over to Adrien, handling her dress with care as she went. She distinctly felt Adrien’s gaze on her, and knew without looking that she held every single bit of his attention. The thought made her flush, and she carefully avoided eye contact.

“Okay! The theme of this shoot is ‘Night and Day’,” Jules announced, kneeling in front of them with her industrial-looking camera poised for action. “It’s a sort of love story, you could say.”

“Of course it is,” Marinette grumbled, unable to help herself. She bit her lip when she realized the words were said out loud, acutely aware of the way Adrien stiffened beside her. _Damn_ it. Could she make this any more awkward?

“So in order for this shoot to work,” Jules continued, apparently deaf to Marinette’s muttered complaint, “you two are going to have to get real cozy with each other.”

…Scratch that: _Jules_ just made it more awkward.

“Um,” Marinette began to speak up, but then stopped. It would be terrible for her to complain, wouldn’t it? After all, it wasn’t like Adrien asked for this, either—this was his job. And Marinette had gotten roped in at the very last minute, like the universe was playing some cruel, sick joke on the both of them.

‘The universe’. _Pah._ Marinette wasn’t ready to believe that there was some higher power screwing around with them any more than she was willing to believe that such a thing as ‘soulmates’ existed. Still, it would be nice to have someone to blame for this whole mess…

Jules was giving her a questioning look. Oh, right, she had been about to say something…

Clearing her throat, Marinette made herself turn towards Adrien…who was not looking at her at the moment. His sudden lack of attention left Marinette uncomfortable. She _hated_ that.

“Are…you okay with this?” She asked hesitantly. It might not do any good to ask—again, this was his job—but he probably hadn’t counted on _Marinette_ having to be his partner for this photo shoot. And since their disastrous conversation this morning, things were about as awkward as they could possibly get. So, even if it was a bit too late to continue protesting, if Adrien took issue with this arrangement, then maybe…

Adrien glanced over at her, and Marinette violently stifled the reaction his gaze caused within her. After a second, in which he seemed to search her eyes for something…he smiled his model smile.

“Sure. I’m a professional at standing around and looking pretty,” he replied with a sly look Jules’ way, who had the decency to look apologetic. “How do you want us to start off, Jules?”

“Hmm…well, first, let’s have you standing behind Marinette—yes, like that, with one hand on her—yes! Oh, and could you—exactly! Ahh, I love working with you, Adrien; you know how to make a photographer happy!”

He certainly did, thought Marinette as she tried not to look too wooden; with little to no direction on Jules’ part, Adrien gave her exactly what she wanted—he stood behind Marinette, one hand resting on her hip, the other cupped around her hand, lifting it, as if they were caught mid-dance. The way he barely needed instruction suggested to Marinette that he clearly was very good at his job…or he could read minds…

‘ _Don’t go down that road,_ ’ she sternly told herself, and then bit her lip when she remembered her thoughts weren’t necessarily private right now…except that Adrien wasn’t bothering to reply at all…

As a matter of fact, Marinette couldn’t feel him at all. Sure, she felt him behind her, naturally, but she couldn’t _feel_ him—she sensed no thoughts from him, no feelings, nothing. This abrupt change made her nervous and relieved: nervous because she didn’t know what it meant, and relieved because she didn’t think she could handle feeling disappointment and heartbreak emanating from him right now. Still, this sudden distance between them was…troubling, to say the very least.

“Marinette, can you try for an expression that doesn’t look like you’re in pain?” Jules asked dryly. Immediately, Adrien let go of Marinette. She glanced back at him in surprise, catching the troubled look on his face before he carefully rearranged his features into polite indifference. Damn, he was good.

“Sorry,” Marinette apologized, both to him and to Jules. She cringed at Jules and added, “I told you I’m not a model, though.”

Jules stood up, frowning with a hand on her hip, cradling her camera in the other.

“Still, no need to look like you’re passing a kidney stone. Can you try for a smile?”

Marinette tried…but the look on Jules’ face suggested she wasn’t quite succeeding.

“I can’t smile if I’m uncomfortable,” Marinette explained defensively, folding her arms. “I’m out of my element here.”

“All right, all right…just close your eyes and take a couple deep breaths. Try to think of nothing at all,” Jules instructed, kneeling down again and raising her camera. “Adrien, as you were.”

Marinette sighed and did as she was told, closing her eyes as she struggled to remember not to react as the warmth of Adrien’s hands returned, handling her delicately, as if she was something breakable. Precious.

“Marinette, you’re frowning.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Adrien asked her quietly from behind, and Marinette huffed again. What difference did it make, whether she was or was not uncomfortable? She was stuck here thanks to Rhys and Jules, wasn’t she?

“Okay, let’s try something else,” Jules suggested; Marinette saw her run a frustrated hand through her hair and wondered if she regretted her hasty decision to use Marinette in this photo shoot. “Um…turn to the side, both of you. Face each other.”

‘Face each other’? Oh god, this shoot was just _destined_ to be a disaster, wasn’t it?

Adrien did as he was told, and Marinette reluctantly mirrored him, staring at the vest of his suit rather than at him.

“Okay, let’s get a little more intimate here…Marinette, step forward and rest your hands on Adrien’s shoulders. Adrien, hands around Marinette, like you’re slow dancing.”

Marinette’s face caught fire. Rhys was so dead for this. So very, _very_ dead.

Swallowing, she did as instructed, still carefully keeping her eyes away from Adrien’s face. Jules, however, wasn’t having it.

“Look at him, Marinette. He’s right there in front of you.”

‘ _I noticed,_ ’ Marinette thought wryly. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath…and then forced herself to meet Adrien’s eyes.

But his were closed. It was almost as if he was trying to avoid her gaze, too…

It wasn’t a good feeling, Marinette had to admit.

“Adrien!” Jules protested, sounding put-out now. Adrien only opened one eye to peek over at her.

“Hmm?”

“Look at Marinette!” Jules insisted, ruffling her curly hair once again with a huff. A sneaky little grin began to play across Adrien’s lips.

“Sorry. Thought I’d sneak a nap in. It’s difficult to stand here under these hot lights and look this good, you know.”

Marinette bit her lip, but too late—a snicker slipped through. Adrien’s gaze snapped to hers, his eyes alight with mischief.

“You know what I mean, right?” He questioned, lifting a brow. “It’s like they’re trying to _bake_ us over here.”

“The lights _are_ a little bright,” Marinette agreed with a hesitant smile. “No wonder they cake so much make-up on you models—lights like these are so bright, you’d be able to see every single flaw in your skin forever.”

Not that Adrien’s skin _had_ any flaws, she couldn’t help but note…but she couldn’t tell if that was the make-up or these damnably rosy-colored glasses she was struggling to get rid of.

“Right?” Adrien agreed with her nonetheless, loosing a dramatic sigh that made her giggle. “And these clothes are heavy, so you can bet we’re going to need touch ups soon, because we’re _melting_ over here.”

Marinette laughed.

“I would have thought you were used to these kinds of working conditions by now, Mr. Model,” she couldn’t help but tease him, now that he had become more…human, somehow. Adrien scrunched up his nose, looking adorably disgruntled.

“Maybe, but I still reserve the right to complain.” One of his hands patted hers on his shoulder. “And I’m wearing all _white!_ How are you not blind right now?”

Marinette laughed again, pretending to flinch away from the brightness that was indeed Adrien’s suit.

“To be fair, I’ve seen you smile, so this suit is nothing,” Marinette said without thinking, caught up in the teasing banter, because it was just so _easy_ to joke with Adrien, so easy that she was surprised, and yet, not at all surprised. After all, this wasn’t the strangest thing to happen between them…

Marinette registered the slow change of Adrien’s face: red began to bloom in his cheeks, and the sass faded from his expression, replaced by something more endearing: _shyness._

Oh god. He was so cute, oh _god._ This was how Marinette was going to die, she was sure of it, that smile right there was doing to do her in, a freak lightning bolt was going to zing its way through the roof of Gabriel and strike her _dead—_

A sudden flash, noticeable only because Marinette was paying attention, distracted her from Adrien’s expression. She glanced over in surprise, finding Jules’ camera aimed at them; she lowered it a second later, looking pleased.

“Ooh, that was a _really_ good one!” She enthused, standing up and fiddling with her camera, a grin wide on her face. “We might be able to use some of these after all!”

Marinette blinked.

Hold on…had Jules been taking pictures of them this whole time? She completely didn’t notice, so lost was she in Adrien’s playful complaints about things that hardly mattered—

“All right, take a break, you two,” Jules said with a careless wave over her shoulder as she continued to review the pictures. “We’ll try and work in a few more shots in about ten minutes.”

Adrien’s arms slid away from Marinette, and he took a polite step back. She looked up at him, but it was his turn to avoid her gaze now, heading for the snack table. Marinette watched him go, her insides twisting. She was beginning to realize now that he had been distracting her on purpose so she wouldn’t notice the camera flashing as Jules took pictures of them. And it worked—she had loosened up and even laughed with him as they chatted, and it had been so easy…as easy as breathing.

But that didn’t necessarily _mean_ anything, right?

After all, Adrien was a reasonably friendly guy, and Marinette went out of her way to be pleasant to everyone. Naturally, despite the weirdness between them, it stood to reason that they _could_ get along…didn’t it?

Something cold pressed against her arm. Marinette jumped, but it was only Rhys, her hand wrapped around the water bottle she was holding to Marinette’s skin.

“Good work,” Rhys complimented, still looking sly as Marinette accepted the water bottle and took a long pull from it, being careful not to ruin her lipstick. “So, you and Adrien look like you’re getting along. Guess you substituting for Evi wasn’t such a bad idea after all, huh?”

Marinette eyed Rhys, a sudden, disturbing suspicion entering her consciousness.

“…You didn’t _plan_ this somehow by doing something to Evi…did you?”

Rhys made a noise of protest and a show of looking offended.

“Boss Lady, _please._ How evil do you think I am?”

 

* * *

 

Rhys was evil. Rhys was the highest caliber of evil. Rhys was _Satan._

“What?” She asked innocently as Marinette gawked at her in outrage. “It was a simple suggestion!”

‘Simple’ Marinette’s ass! All Jules had said as she was reviewing the shots after a couple hours of work was that something seemed to be missing. How the hell did Rhys’ suggestion of ‘ _a kiss’_ make it simple?!

‘ _She’s gonna be on paperwork duty for a_ month _after this!_ ’ Marinette growled in her head, her hands tightening into fists. Damn her. Damn her _right_ back into the pit from where she was spawned!

Jules was considering it, too: a thoughtful frown crossed her features as she tapped her chin, gaze switching between her camera and Marinette and Adrien and back again. Marinette opened her mouth, scrambling for any sort of plausible excuse, _anything_ that would get her out of this—

“Is that necessary?”

Marinette paused, turning to Adrien, for it was he who had spoken instead of her. His gaze was tight, suggesting that he himself was less than happy with the situation at hand.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng has already played along with us for long enough today,” Adrien insisted, and Marinette felt a distinct pang over the fact that he was now addressing her by her last names. “She’s not under contract here at all. You’re asking too much.”

Jules frowned as she appeared to consider his words, turning to inspect Marinette.

“Are you uncomfortable with having to kiss Adrien?” She asked, and Marinette really wished she wouldn’t have, because to answer this question with him standing _right there—_

“I…” Marinette began, having to consciously avoid chewing her bottom lip so she didn’t smudge the lipstick there. If she was being honest with herself, Marinette would have to confess that she did not mind the thought of kissing Adrien in the slightest. After all, he was gorgeous, as well as kind and charming, as he had proven as he joked around with her to get her to loosen up in front of the camera. He had a dreadful sense of humor, though—nothing but puns—but overall, he was the kind of guy Marinette could see herself easily falling for.

And she probably would have…if not for…

_“Do you believe in the concept of soulmates?”_

She didn’t. Marinette didn’t believe in such a fairytale-like concept. Fairytales were for children, and Marinette was all grown up—she had long outgrown such things.

Therefore, because she didn’t believe, a kiss given for the sake of a photo shoot would mean nothing to her.

…But to Adrien, who seemed to still firmly believe in fairytales…

Marinette turned to look at him. He was looking back at her, once again, as if she was the only other person in existence, aside from him. She could see it in his eyes, even as he tried to hide it—he still believed that they were somehow meant to be. And she didn’t know how she could disabuse him of this notion…unless…

“…Okay,” Marinette replied at last. Adrien blinked at her, appearing startled, but she didn’t pause to decipher the rest of his expression; she turned to Jules and addressed her instead. “That’s the last thing, right? We kiss, and then we’re done?”

“Oh…sure,” Jules replied; she, too, appeared surprised at this sudden determination. “So, just, uh, if you two would…”

As Marinette approached Adrien, guilt nipped at her once again. This was terrible—kissing him to prove a point? That there was no cosmic force driving them to be together at all? She had already shut him out earlier this morning—was it really necessary to kick him while he was down?

‘ _It has to be done,_ ’ Marinette insisted to herself as her arms once again slid around Adrien, bypassing his broad shoulders to lace her fingers behind his neck. Without knowing how she knew (and not wanting to know how anyway), Marinette rather felt that Adrien was the type of person who had trouble letting things go. Once he had convinced himself of something, it seemed likely that he would stay his course until something big forced him to change it. Marinette was familiar with that kind of stubbornness—Alya was the same way. So, no matter how awful she felt about it, if this was the only way to convince him that there truly was nothing cosmic between them…

Adrien’s eyes were enigmatic as he gazed down at her. His hand brushed her cheek, and Marinette closed her eyes, feeling his arms wind around her as he drew her in, closing the distance between them slowly, so slowly…

Their lips met…

And there was nothing.

No spark. No heat. Just…this.

It was as Marinette expected—it was an awkward stage kiss, meant to please the camera only. She heard the clicking, saw the dim flashes through her eyelids, but held the pose, even as Adrien’s lips pressed against her, searching for something he would not find.

“Okay! Looks good, you two!” Jules called, and Marinette broke away from Adrien, breathing a sigh of relief. When she dared to meet his gaze again, she immediately wished she hadn’t: not only was it bewildered, but it was _devastated_. As if he had lost something in that kiss…something irreplaceable.

Marinette bit her lip and turned her back, heading for the make-up station as Jules congratulated them on their good work and sent them on their way. She was acutely aware of the eyes on her back, but she did not turn to meet them—she could take no more of Adrien’s pain when she was unexpectedly dealing with her own.

She had proven herself right. Surely soulmates would feel the earth move when they kissed, wouldn’t they? The fact that she had felt nothing when she kissed Adrien just proved her point—whatever this weirdness was that existed between them, it wasn’t because they were meant to be.

And it was horrible, _awful._ Marinette felt her lip tremble, but she worked to stiffen it. She had no right to be upset over this, none at all. To be upset over a concept she didn’t believe in in the first place was nothing but sheer lunacy.

Marinette was quiet as her make-up was removed and her normal clothes were returned, her hair swept back into its no-nonsense bun instead of wildly tossed about. She was a seamstress once again, and it was more than relieving.

Rhys seemed to sense that she was preoccupied—or she was worried about her mouth getting her in more trouble—for she stayed silent as well as they made their way back to the women’s fashion department, Rhys playfully deflecting questions about where they’d been when Vera asked. Marinette was too lost in her own mind to answer any question Vera tossed at her, and she buried herself in work the second she reached her sewing machine to take her mind off of it, focusing extra-carefully on every stitch she made to avoid making mistakes.

The rest of the day flew by, and before Marinette knew it, it was time to go home. She wasn’t completely finished with the piece she was working on, however, and so she sent Rhys and Vera on ahead with several assurances that she would be leaving soon and getting sleep in her bed at her apartment instead of on the couch of their office. Rubbing her neck, Marinette glanced at her three/fourths of a finished blouse, and decided to take a quick break and make herself a cup of coffee.

The break room was deserted; not that that surprised Marinette. Such a place was a formality anyway, since no one bothered to actually ‘break’ here. It might as well be a ‘coffee to-go’ room.

As she set the coffee machine to percolate, Marinette let herself sigh the heavy sigh that had been building since this morning. She was so tired…there should be some sort of rule in place that stated that there should be a limit to how much emotional turmoil she was allowed to be put through in one day…

“That’s not a happy sound.”

Marinette jumped and whirled around, finding Adrien _freaking_ Agreste standing there, his hands up, eyes wide.

“Sorry!” He apologized, expression warping into sheepishness when Marinette laid a hand over her heart, staring at him as she tried to regulate her breathing. (The staring at him wasn’t helping on that front.) “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Marinette breathed, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, briefly closing her eyes. “I know you didn’t mean to. It’s fine.”

There was silence for a moment, in which part of Marinette prayed that he would go away, because she wasn’t sure that she was ready to deal with him again so soon after what transpired at the end of the shoot. But when she opened her eyes, there he still was, looking apologetic. She withheld another sigh. Looked like she’d have to deal with him for a little longer…at least, until her coffee was ready.

“Good work today,” she said somewhat awkwardly, trying for a smile. She managed a small one, thank goodness, and Adrien returned it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks. Uh, you too.” A corner of his mouth pulled down. “I’m, um, sorry you got dragged into the shoot like that, though…when Miss Moreau left to get someone, I didn’t think she would—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Marinette insisted with a shake of her head and a grimace. “Rhys is always causing trouble one way or another…though I have to say, it’s never boring with her around.”

Adrien chuckled at that, and Marinette paused, taking in his laughter. What a nice sound…

“Right.” He cleared his throat, going right back to looking uncomfortable. “Uh, Miss Dupain-Cheng…could I…I mean, I want to, uh…say something. If that’s okay?”

Marinette’s heart stuttered, and then began to pick up double-time. Such words were ominous, and she supposed they should concern her, but she couldn’t help but feel another emotion entirely…hope?

“Sure,” she allowed, watching him intently as he continued to rub the back of his neck, his golden brown furrowed. He cleared his throat once again before he straightened his shoulders, zeroing in on her face.

“I…want to apologize,” he said after a moment, surprising Marinette.

“For what?” She asked, startled. Adrien gave her a helpless little smile.

“For scaring you this morning.” Now his expression grew solemn. “That was never my intention. I was only trying to make sense of…whatever this is,” he said, waving a hand through the air between them, much like Marinette had earlier that morning. As she watched, his expression crumpled further. “Or…what I thought it was.”

He glanced down briefly before his eyes met hers again, quiet and careful.

“But, in the aftermath of the shoot, I had time to think…and I guess…well, that kiss didn’t really do anything for me, and though I know it’s a mythical concept, it was my understanding that soulmates are meant to…you know, _feel_ something when they kiss. …But I didn’t. And I’m betting you didn’t, either…” He raised a brow. “Which was probably your intent when you agreed to kiss me in the first place. Am I right?”

Marinette felt herself flush. Busted. Well, it wasn’t like she had exactly been subtle with her change of mind…

“I’m sorry,” she apologized now, feeling her teeth press once more into her lip. “I didn’t mean to ground you so brutally…but I thought…if you continued to believe something that couldn’t be true…would you ever have the chance to move on?”

Adrien’s eyes rounded in understanding.

“Ah. …So, in a way…you did it for me?”

Marinette smiled helplessly. It certainly seemed that way, didn’t it?

“I guess so…but it’s less awkward for me this way, too, isn’t it? So it’s not like I don’t benefit here. I’m not a saint or anything.”

“Ha ha, I guess not,” Adrien agreed, though he smiled like he was amused. But it faded too soon, once again, as if happiness could not bear to keep his company for very long. “…I’m sorry you felt it needed to come to that.”

“No, don’t be,” Marinette pleaded, waving a hand in protest, her brow furrowed. “It’s just a… _strange_ situation, isn’t it?”

Adrien said nothing, staring at her for a moment. Marinette stared back, wondering what was going through his head…and then realizing that she should be careful what she wished for. But it was _weird_ , not being able to tell now…and she still had no answer for why that was. She watched Adrien, taking in every twitch of his facial features, wondering if he knew why, and wondering if it was worth it to make things more awkward between them to ask…

Before she could think of the words to form, slowly, Adrien nodded.

“Strange is a good word,” he allowed, with another slight smile that left as soon as it came as well. “But, despite the strangeness…I had fun with you during the shoot, Marinette.”

Marinette felt herself warm, her tongue tripping in its haste to reply.

“Y-you did?”

“Sure.” Adrien smiled again, the one that appeared as if the sun borrowed its light from his smile. Marinette was weak to it; she casually leaned against the counter behind her, hoping with all her might that it didn’t look like she was about to faint. “You’re funny.”

“So are you,” Marinette replied with her own smile that became dry in an instant. “You know, when you’re not telling terrible puns.”

“Hey, my puns are not terrible. Paper is.” His smile widened into a grin when Marinette groaned. “Get it? ‘Cause paper is _tear-able?_ ”

“I get it, I get it,” Marinette huffed with a shake of her head. “Those kind of jokes should be punishable by law.”

Marinette didn’t understand why Adrien was grinning at her like that until she realized what she just said. Her groan was twice as long this time, and her humiliation was off the charts.

“You are a bad influence!” She insisted, fighting to keep the grin off her face—and losing. Adrien laughed, unable to stifle the sound with the back of his hand, it was so hearty. _God_ , he was cute.

“Yesss, another one has fallen into my clutches of pun-based humor,” Adrien cackled, tapping his fingertips together in a diabolical movement. Marinette rolled her eyes, and he dropped his hands, his grin softening into a smile. “But you see? You’re funny, too. And smart. And kind. And pretty…” He flushed, growing serious again. “…I don’t want to not know you, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked at that, unsure of what to say. Never had she had someone who was so eager to know her before…

“…I know this is asking a lot, considering this morning and all,” Adrien said, taking a careful step forward, anxiously watching Marinette’s face as he did so. She didn’t react, merely watching him, but he stayed where he was; it seemed like he didn’t want to scare her. “And I’m willing to give you all the time you need to think it over. But...do you think—I mean, if it's possible…can we be friends?”

Okay, but this was seriously unfair—with him asking so anxiously to be close to her, those green puppy eyes aimed right at her, how in the world could Marinette possibly say no?

Especially when she realized that she didn’t want to not know him either?

Marinette let herself smile, and uncrossed her arms to hold out a hand for him to shake.

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable at all,” she assured him. Ah, and there was his sunshine smile again as he took her hand, giving it a firm shake.

‘ _Thank god._ ’

Marinette startled— _that voice in her head wasn’t hers._

Her jump of surprise set her off-balance, and she wobbled on her heels before she pitched over, falling sideways. There was a yelp, a flurry of movement, and suddenly, strong arms were around her, green eyes hovering over her face.

“Whoa, that was close!” Adrien breathed, and Marinette glanced around them, finding that the furniture in the break room was at an odd angle. And then she realized—Adrien must have stumbled to catch her, and he was currently _dipping_ her, as if they were in mid-dance. Of all the continuously ridiculous situations she kept finding herself in with him…

“Marinette?” Adrien’s voice broke through her wryness, his gaze concerned as it searched her face. “Are you okay?”

‘ _Oh god, did you twist your ankle? Are you hurt at all? Say something!_ ’

Marinette said nothing, merely staring at him.

It was back. His voice—his _thoughts_ —they were _back._ And there was a strong wave of worry emanating from him, crashing over her so she distinctly felt just how concerned her almost-fall made him. Oh boy, if he stuck around her, he was going to have a bad time, for she was incredibly clumsy…but that wasn’t important right now. Why was this ‘connection’ back? It had been gone since this morning, but now, the minute she had accepted being friends with him—

That made Marinette pause.

…Was it _her?_ The reason she hadn’t heard a peep from Adrien’s mind since that morning…that wasn’t _her_ doing, was it? Had she, somehow, blocked him out of her mind? Was that even a thing she _could_ do? What was going on here?

“Marinette,” Adrien said again, and Marinette blinked at the warmth on her cheek as one of his hands brushed against her face. “Please say you’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

‘ _I didn’t hurt you by trying to help you, did I?_ ’

No. No, Marinette wasn’t hurt. But she _was_ confused.

If she was responsible for shutting Adrien out, for closing whatever this connection was between them…did her accepting his offer of friendship open it back up? And since it was open again…what did that mean?

Was it possible that this whole ‘soulmate’ thing was…that Marinette was…

She didn’t give herself a chance to think about it, or she would talk herself out of it. Or worse, Adrien would _hear_ her, and she wouldn’t be able to bear whatever reaction that caused within him. So she just _did_ it—she reached up, pulled Adrien down the last few centimeters in between their lips and kissed him.

This was not the same kiss as the one for the shoot.

Dear god, it was nothing _like_ that kiss.

It was _passion_ —a burst of heat, sparks catching flame, _fireworks._ Marinette felt her entire _being_ shiver, as if her very soul was shuddering right along with her body, her heart leaping for joy, her mind fizzled out, but somehow signaling its approval as well. Adrien gasped against her lips, and dimly the small part of her that still had rational sense worried that this sudden come-on was unwanted. But then he kissed her back, and the fireworks display escalated into a grand finale that felt like it would never end, and Marinette didn’t _want_ it to end, not in a million years. All she wanted was this, this moment with Adrien, and this kiss, and _him_ , every single part of him that he had to offer, that he was willing to give—

There was a sudden loud beeping, and both Marinette and Adrien jumped, Adrien abruptly straightening and thankfully pulling Marinette up with him. Marinette was working hard to catch her breath as well as her mind, which was spinning. She was dimly aware that the beeps were supposed to signal something, but for the life of her, she could not remember what—right now, everything was Adrien, and the way he looked at her, breathing hard, his face flushed, his eyes half-lidded, his golden locks mussed…hmm…she didn’t even _remember_ doing that…

“…Marinette…” he sighed, the huskiness of his voice threatening to undo Marinette right then and there. Her panic alarm, going unnoticed for who knew how long, was suddenly at the forefront of her mind, signaling that she had to make her escape, and _now._

“Igottagobye,” she hastily half-shouted at him, breaking free of his grasp and nearly sprinting from the break room, her face on fire, the words ‘ _What the hell was that?!_ ’ playing on a loud loop over and over in her mind. She fled the building completely, climbing into her car and speeding away into the night as fast as her embarrassment and confusion willed her to, as if she could outrun her problems that way.

But even Marinette, with her foot firmly on the gas pedal, could no longer deny one simple fact:

She was already in too deep.

 

* * *

 

The next day, there were complaints about the smell of the break room—according to Rhys, some idiot had left the coffee maker on all night, so the whole floor now smelled like burnt coffee.

Marinette sipped at her to-go chai tea and feigned ignorance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why the hell did this end up so much longer than all the other chapters?
> 
> DAMN IT ERIN.
> 
> Oh well. Hope you enjoyed anyway! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> おひさしぶりです！
> 
> Here, have a small piece of cotton candy fluff~
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Marinette opened her eyes, squinting briefly in the bright sunshine before she adjusted to the light. She sat up, glancing around her, a slight frown marring her features as she took in her surroundings.

It was the hill again: the same grassy hill she always seemed to dream about nowadays, when she let herself sleep deeply enough to dream at all. She glanced up, unsurprised to find that she was under the large tree—an oak, she thought it was—sturdy and strong and ancient. Then she looked down, and was again unsurprised: instead of the pink pajamas she went to bed in, she was wearing a red satin nightgown that was both form-fitting and free flowing, a multitude of black spots decorating the skirt of it, which fell down to her calves. Marinette plucked idly at the fabric, tilting her head to the side…and that was when she noticed that her hair was pulled back, into pigtails. She weaved a hand through her dark locks, and they tangled briefly with the red ribbons that tied her hair back.

Strange. And yet Marinette was not perturbed. This was not the first dream where she woke up wearing something like this, and she had a funny feeling that it was nowhere near the last.

What _did_ bother her, however, was that there was an actor missing from this stage set…

Marinette lifted a hand to brush her hair behind her ear, and that’s when she found it—the red string tied around her pinky finger. She tilted her head to the side, lifting her arm. The red string seemed to have no end; instead, it strayed into the grass, disappearing to parts unknown. Curious.

Getting up, Marinette carefully lifted the string, letting it run gently across her free hand as she followed it. The thought of removing the string from her finger did not once occur to her, for she knew without knowing that the consequences would be dire if she dared to try.

The string seemed to lead her to the other side of the tree. Marinette wandered around, and when she saw what was waiting for her, a smile spread across her face.

There he was—sprawled out under the tree, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed with a soft smile, looking like he was without a care in the world. He was dressed in what appeared to be black silk pajamas—hmm. Marinette would have never considered black to be a good color on him, but she had to admit that every time she saw him in it, she didn’t hate the sight of it. There were also what looked like black cat ears perched on his head, as if he was taking part in an impromptu cosplay, and Marinette muffled a giggle as she approached, silently marveling over how good _those_ looked on him as well. She was unsurprised to find that the red string appeared to be attached to his right hand; it disappeared behind his head along with his hand, so she couldn’t see which finger it was attached to, but it hardly mattered. All she was concerned about was that he was here.

“Rise and shine, Kitty,” she teased him, kneeling down to ruffle his blonde locks. His hair was always messy here, as if he could not bring himself to style it in this world that only contained the two of them. Marinette liked it—it felt more natural than his carefully coiffed locks.

Adrien’s lips twitched into a wider smile as she scratched his scalp, letting out a purr to tease her, she suspected.

“Greetings, My Lady,” he purred, opening an eye as he grinned at her. She returned the gesture, unable to help it; she was just so at ease with him here.

“What’re you doing over here?” She wanted to know as he pushed himself to sit up, shaking his head slightly and messing up his hair even more. Marinette muffled another giggle. He was so endearing.

Adrien blinked slowly, as if he was just waking up. He scratched the back of his head, and Marinette saw it—the red string was attached to his pinky finger, too. Right next to that ring he always wore…

“What do you mean?” He asked, distracting her. She blinked for a moment, struggling to remember what point she was trying to make; looking at him made her lose her train of thought more often than she cared to admit.

“I mean,” she said, glancing up at the tree that shaded them, “usually when we…come here, you’re right beside me. This time, you weren’t.”

Adrien blinked and frowned at this.

“Oh.” He made a face, like he was trying to figure something out…but then he shrugged. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t go far?”

This made Marinette laugh.

“Of course you didn’t; you wouldn’t have been able to,” she said, raising her hand so he could see the red string bow tied neatly around her pinky finger. Adrien eyed it curiously, taking her hand.

“This is new.”

“You have it, too,” she pointed out, taking his wrist and turning his hand so that he could see the red string hooked there as well.

“Hmm,” he hummed idly, casually lacing his fingers with hers as he stared at the string linking them together. “I think that’s meant to be symbolic or something…”

“So I’m stuck with you, then?” Marinette teased with a grin. Adrien made a face at her, lifting her hand to his face to press a kiss upon her knuckles.

“Do you truly find my presence so terrible, My Lady?” He asked, aiming an exaggerated pout at her with large green puppy eyes—or kitten eyes, Marinette supposed. She rolled her eyes and poked his nose with the tip of her finger, and Adrien scrunched his nose cutely, rubbing it with his free hand as he gave her a mildly reproachful look, which she just laughed at.

“You know I don’t mind you at all, _chaton,_ ” she reminded him, her free hand caressing his cheek. It was so easy to touch him here, like social conventions didn’t exist at all…and why would they? In this world with just the two of them, where no one else was watching, why should Marinette let herself be self-conscious?

Adrien sighed and nuzzled the palm of her hand.

“It wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he grumbled, but his faux exasperation couldn’t last; a smile broke through as he closed his eyes, allowing Marinette to run her hand through that blonde mop atop his head. It was so soft…he really should leave his hair alone when he woke up in the mornings, because this was adorable.

Their red string tied hands were still linked together. Marinette let them rest in the grass beside them as she scooted closer, sliding an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. He reciprocated, an arm going around her waist as they drew each other in, his head resting on her shoulder, lazily nosing at the crook of her neck. Marinette sighed, feeling like she could melt into him and be perfectly fine with it; even if ‘she’ ceased to exist, she would live on in him, and that was just as good, if not a thousand times better.

“I like this,” Marinette allowed herself to admit, even if it was just in a whisper of breath across Adrien’s cheek. A low rumble sounded from him, and he pulled her closer.

“Me too,” he mumbled against her neck, and Marinette shivered. Her fingers idly teased through his hair as she closed her eyes with a sigh.

“Why can’t it be this easy, you know, out there?”

“Because it’s different out there?”

Marinette sighed. He was being kind, and so she let herself think the words she was pretty sure they were both thinking:

‘ _You mean because_ I’m _making it difficult out there._ ’

Adrien’s arm flexed around her.

‘ _I didn’t say that,_ ’ he thought back at her, and she felt warmth flow from his mind to hers, as if he was trying to comfort her mentally as well as physically. And though Marinette was as comfortable as she could possibly be here, she clung to this shred of discontent, a fragmented part of reality that did not belong in this place, but even so…

“Neither did I,” she pointed out, though she spoke aloud this time. Adrien sighed, his breath brushing her skin before he sat back, meeting her eyes.

“I don’t want to push you.”

“I know you don’t,” Marinette replied with a nod, while also giving him a searching look. “But you can’t tell me you’re not at least a _little_ frustrated with me.”

“I’m not,” Adrien replied, as she knew he would. However, she was surprised by the complete sincerity in his eyes and his voice. She blinked, staring at him. He was…absolutely serious, wasn’t he?

“Why not?” She blurted out in her surprise. Adrien chuckled, seeming to find her bewilderment amusing.

“Well, how could I be?” He asked, brushing a stray strand of her dark hair back behind her ear for her, Marinette flushing at the gesture. “This isn’t exactly a normal situation, is it?”

Marinette frowned. Since Adrien had walked into her life, absolutely nothing was normal anymore, that was for sure.

Tilting her head, Marinette inspected Adrien’s face. He was too handsome in real life, too pretty to be allowed. But here…it was strange. He was just as beautiful, of course, but it was different here. In this place, he was not Adrien Agreste, supermodel, heir to the Agreste fortune and son to the most famous fashion icon in all of Paris. Instead, he was just Adrien. And he was hers. And she was much less self-conscious of that fact here than she was out there.

Adrien flushed under her gaze.

“Uh,” he began, as if he meant to say something, but the words seemed to get lost somewhere on the way to his mouth, for he just watched her instead, that strange look of wonder that entered his eyes every time he looked at her beginning to return. Marinette felt her face catch fire.

“I know I’m being difficult,” she rushed into speech once again, feeling as if she owed him an explanation. “And I’m sorry. It’s not like I hate you or anything—”

The short puff of breath Adrien released had Marinette halting in her speech, her blue eyes wide as she stared up at him.

“Wait…you thought I _hated_ you??”

“No,” Adrien replied too quickly; he cringed and tried again. “I mean…I know you weren’t thrilled about this whole situation, but I didn’t think it was ‘hate’ per se—”

“I _don’t_ hate you,” Marinette insisted, making sure to actually say the words so that there would be no doubt left in his mind. Their red string tied hands were still entwined, and so she gave his a squeeze, wanting to reassure him physically as well. Adrien closed his eyes and sighed, his forehead bumping against hers. Marinette watched the way his golden lashes rested against his tan cheeks, again, finding him beautiful, but more than that, finding him absolutely endearing for worrying that she actually disliked him because of an inexplicable situation neither of them had asked for. Ridiculous.

“Thank you,” Adrien muttered, nuzzling his nose against hers, making her giggle.

“You’re welcome, you silly kitten,” she teased him, reaching up to run a finger down one of those velvet ears. It twitched under her touch.

There was a faint ringing sound suddenly in the distance. As it grew louder, Marinette sighed.

“Time to get up,” she announced, and Adrien sighed as well, pulling back. He tried to dislodge his hand from hers, but she held firm, lifting their joined hands to stare at the red string. Such a fragile-looking thing, and yet, she allowed it to bind her to this beautiful man she hardly knew, her Fate-decided soulmate. Could her life get any stranger?

“…I want to stay here,” Marinette mumbled, the confession quiet as she continued to stare at their hands. “Things are…easier here.”

Adrien chuckled softly, covering their joined hands with his free one.

“I know, My Lady,” he muttered, catching her gaze; he gave a small smile that rivaled the warmth of his usual one. “But…when you’re ready…there’s nothing stopping us from making it easier out there.”

Marinette searched his sincere gaze, finding herself almost believing him, even as the ringing grew deafening.

“Can it really be so simple?” She asked him, just as the light surrounding them became too bright, blinding. The last thing Marinette saw was Adrien’s smile as it grew.

“Why not?”

 

* * *

 

The ringing of Marinette’s alarm was insistent, demanding, as if it was annoyed that she had the audacity to ignore it. Groaning, Marinette slipped a hand out from under her blanket, smacking her nightstand a few times before she successfully located her phone and ceased the blasted noise. She reluctantly sat up, pulling her comfy blanket off as she blinked slowly, adjusting to consciousness.

There was something tickling the back of her brain…fluttering on the edge of her memory, threatening to blow away in the wind if Marinette didn’t catch it fast enough—

And then she remembered.

She glanced down at her left hand, feeling herself inexplicably deflate when she noticed there was no red string tied to her pinky finger anymore. But then she remembered Adrien kissing this hand, and she swelled right back up, like a balloon was inflating in her chest and would burst any minute.

Letting out a high pitched squeal to let off some steam (and because no one else was around to hear it), Marinette fled to the bathroom, determined to stand in the shower until she _got a grip._

She had just barely cleared the threshold, however, when her phone began to ring shrilly once again. Marinette growled, stomping over to her bed, because she was _sure_ she had turned the damn alarm off, but if she had accidentally hit the snooze button—

As it turned out, it wasn’t her alarm at all. Instead, it was the primary purpose of her phone that demanded her attention: Alya was calling.

“Hey, girl!” Alya chirped when Marinette answered the phone. “Wow, you’re actually up? I thought I’d have to come over and drag you out of bed today.”

Marinette grumbled under her breath as she sat back down on her bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Is it Wednesday?”

“You bet your sweet little ass it is, Dupain-Cheng. Which means I better see you for breakfast in twenty minutes.”

“Okay, okay,” Marinette surrendered around a yawn. “Just lemme shower.”

“Don’t take too long, or I might have to join you!”

Marinette snorted.

“Nino would get so jealous.”

“He’d get over it. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna end up marrying him anyway, so one little _tête-à-tête_ won’t kill him.”

Marinette was about to point out everything wrong with Alya’s logic in this regard, but then she paused.

“…Are you serious?”

“…What, about the _tête-à-tête_?” Alya’s voice was thoughtful. “Well I mean, if I was single, sure, but—”

“Not about that,” Marinette interrupted, feeling herself flush red at the thought of a tryst with her best friend. Oh boy. “I mean…you already know that you want to be with Nino for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, that.” Alya laughed. “Well, y’know, nothing’s set in stone right now—it’s not like either of us have proposed to each other yet. But we’ve been together for about five years now, and we practically live together already. As long as we want to be together, why not?”

Huh. Alya made it sound so simple…

Which had Marinette wondering… _could_ it be that simple after all…?

“Marinette? Hello? Girl, you still there?”

“Yeah,” Marinette replied after a moment, staring down at her left hand again. “Um, I should go so I can shower…but can we continue this conversation over breakfast?”

“Sure?” Alya sounded confused, but since she agreed easily enough, Marinette was grateful.

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, Alya.”

“Later, girl.”

Marinette hung up, hopping up from her bed to head to the bathroom once more, Alya’s and Adrien’s words ringing in her ears:

_“There’s nothing stopping us from making it easier out there.”_

_“As long as we want to be together…”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Why not?”_

Marinette pursed her lips as she shed her pajamas, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed, as right before her very eyes, possibility presented itself.

‘Why not’ indeed…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing them in the dreamscape; that was fun~ I'm counting it as LadyNoir in my head, ha ha~
> 
> But damn it, this'll have to be a two-parter, 'cause it'll carry into the next part. ._.;
> 
> I'm not gonna officially label it a two-parter, though. 'Cause I _refuse_.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look closely at this chapter (and by closely, I mean not at all), you can totally tell that I've been reading an old English novel lately. XP
> 
> Oh well. Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Her friend was agitated again today.

Alya could tell—she made it her business to notice these things.

Marinette had been behaving strangely, on and off, for about a month now. Alya was inclined to be concerned about the distractions of her friend, but it was like they were phases—most days, she was perfectly fine—but some days, like today, she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she often had to be stopped before she accidentally added salt instead of sugar to her tea for the fourth time. It was so bizarre…and yet Alya found that no amount of pushing would make Marinette open up to her on this mysterious subject. Work she could complain about for days, but whatever this second thing was that was bothering her, she was keeping her lips tightly sealed about it.

It frustrated Alya to no end, but because of this, she had decided to employ a new tactic: patience. So as they sat in the café, Alya stirred her coffee idly (though she always took it black), merely watching as Marinette inwardly fretted over whatever she was concerned about, and she said nothing, only raising an eyebrow in silent invitation when Marinette finally looked up at her, blue eyes anxious.

“So,” she began without preamble, “what you said earlier, about wanting to marry Nino…are you sure about that?”

Higher climbed Alya’s eyebrow.

“You make it sound like you have objections,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee and watching Marinette’s face flush, her hands moving in a flurry as she rushed to correct this assumption.

“No, no! I love you and Nino together, you know I do,” Marinette protested, so obviously flustered that Alya couldn’t help but snicker. “It’s just…well…I’m trying to…wrap my mind around it.”

How curious.

“What do you mean?” Alya wanted to know, both her eyebrows climbing higher up her forehead now. “What’s to wrap your mind around?”

“Well,” said Marinette, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear and looking troubled, “I’m just trying to understand…the concept of ‘commitment’, I guess. Like…how much time is supposed to pass before it’s considered acceptable to commit yourself to someone? What are the levels and the time limits? Do you normally wait a month before you decide you want to start dating someone? Do you wait a year before you decide you want to move in? Do you—”

“Whoa, girl, hold up,” Alya requested, holding up a hand to forestall her best friend’s rambling. She was giving Marinette an odd look now, trying to suss out the reason for the crease of her best friend’s brow, or the anxiousness in her eyes. It was so strange… “What’s with all the questions about commitment all of a sudden? I don’t get why this is bothering you when you’re not even in a relationship _to_ worry about commitment—no offense, but—”

Alya paused when she noticed a telltale blush creep into Marinette’s face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes widened, suspicion hitting her square in the chest.

_No way._

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, did you get a boyfriend or girlfriend without even _telling_ me?!”

“No!!!” Marinette squealed a little too loudly; at the curious stares from the other patrons, she blushed and appropriately lowered her voice as well as her head. “No, nothing like that. We’re not even dating, but I—”

“So there _is_ someone,” Alya fished, and Marinette flushed further, confirming her suspicions. “No wonder you’ve been so weird lately.”

Marinette cringed.

“Have I been?”

“Uh, yeah.” Alya set down her mug, folding her hands under her chin as she looked expectantly at Marinette. “So? You gonna spill or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Marinette raised her hands, as if they alone would be enough to keep Alya at bay. When all Alya did was raise her eyebrows insistently, however, she sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…His name is Adrien,” she said slowly, avoiding Alya’s eyes as she bit her lip, fiddling with one of her earrings. “He’s Gabriel Agreste’s son.”

Alya’s eyebrows promptly disappeared into her hairline.

“The son of your boss? The model??” She grinned widely, intrigued. “Oooh, Marinette, no _wonder_ you’re so hard-pressed to leave work nowadays. I thought it was just the workaholic in you, but had I known it was because you were tapping such a fine piece of ass there—”

“We’re not like that!” Marinette protested too loudly. As she mumbled apologies to the next table over, Alya observed her, frowning now. Not like that, hmm? And she had already insisted that they weren’t dating…

“I don’t get it,” she admitted, frustrated by the fact. “You’re not seeing this guy at all, and yet, you’re worried about the issue of commitment? What’s with you, girl? Is this just a crush? No offense, but don’t you have to be, y’know, _involved_ before you start worrying about commitments and stuff?”

“Well,” Marinette began, looking uncomfortable for some reason Alya couldn’t fathom. “We _aren’t_ dating or anything…b-but it’s not like we don’t _know_ each other…”

As the blush on Marinette’s face deepened, Alya squinted at her.

“Did you guys have a one night stand or something?”

“N—!” Marinette caught herself before she yelled this time, slapping a hand over her mouth and closing her eyes, breathing deeply for a second. “I told you, we’re not like that, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Alya pressed, leaning forward, as if they were sharing a secret confidence, not meant for prying ears. “What is it about him that’s got you all hot and bothered over there? I know he’s hot and all, but damn, you’re making faces like you two are a lot more intimately involved than you’re choosing to tell me.”

This only made Marinette blush more, and she began to stutter for a second before finally pulling herself together, her head in her hands as she sighed.

“It’s…complicated,” she settled on.

This did nothing to placate Alya.

“Complicated how?” She wanted to know, uncomprehending. What the hell was with her and this guy that couldn’t be explained with simple words?

Though Alya expected to be fully informed on the situation, she was immediately disappointed when Marinette shook her head, her lips pursing.

“It’s just complicated, Alya,” she said again, and then left it at that, keeping tight-lipped even when Alya attempted to pry more out of her. This frustrated her to know end, and she sat back, folding her arms with a huff. She didn’t understand why Marinette was being so difficult about this, and it was beginning to concern her—was she wrapped up in something dangerous when it came to this Adrien guy?

Alya didn’t like not knowing all the facts, but after a minute, she got over it, her concern for her friend winning out against her need to know everything. Marinette had come to her seeking advice, and Alya didn’t want to betray that, even if she didn’t exactly know what was going on here…

“So, you and this Adrien are…acquaintances, shall we say,” Alya started, piecing together what little information she had to mock up a picture of the situation on her own. “And you’re worried about levels of commitment…are you thinking about asking him out or something?”

Marinette frowned, her lips twisting.

“Or something,” she agreed, lifting her mug of tea to her lips, though she did not drink from it. She just stared into its murky depths, as if convinced that all her answers would come if she just stared through the liquid to the tea leaves resting at the bottom of the mug. “It’s not like I don’t know that he’s interested—I know it’s my fault that he’s holding back—but…I’m not sure. Despite the…weirdness…it’s not like we actually know each other all that well—”

“Wait,” Alya interrupted, eyebrows raised once again. “Am I hearing you correctly? This guy wants to date you?”

Marinette blushed and squirmed in her chair, like a teenager on her first date. It was kind of adorable.

“I-I think so,” she stammered, and Alya immediately made a mental note to check into Adrien Agreste as soon as she had her laptop in front of her. “I mean…we haven’t exactly talked about it, and I can tell he doesn’t want to push me on the subject…but I can also tell that this is something he wants very much, too.”

There was a quiet thoughtfulness to her words, Alya thought, like, though she was speaking carefully, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were true. It intrigued Alya—did Adrien openly admit that he was interested in dating Marinette?—but she would hold off on the interrogation until she helped Marinette put her reservations to bed.

“So the problem,” she said, swirling her half-empty mug as she watched Marinette, “is that you’re unsure about dating him because you don’t know him that well?”

“Well…something like that, yeah.”

“And how do you think you _get_ to know people, Marinette?”

“…By spending time with them?”

“Exactly,” Alya affirmed with a quirk of her brows. “So why not date the guy?”

“Oh,” Marinette squeaked, her face in danger of staying permanently red. “I-it’s not like I’m…reluctant, or anything. But…I’m afraid.”

“Of?” Alya prompted. Marinette sighed, her hands closing around her mug, biting her lower lip anxiously.

“That I’ll hurt him,” she admitted in a small voice. “I know if I agree to date him that it’ll mean more to him than it will to me. And I still haven’t made peace with the…weirdness…between us. I’m afraid that, if I accept him, and then later decide that it’s too much, and I don’t want to be in a relationship with him…I’m afraid I’ll devastate him.”

Alya stared.

“…‘Devastate’ is a strong word,” she noted, resting her head on a fist as she inspected Marinette. “As great a catch as I think you are, hun, I don’t think you should be putting that much pressure on yourself. I don’t know the guy, but I’m assuming Adrien Agreste is a big boy who can take care of himself. One little rejection won’t kill him.”

There was something mysterious in Marinette’s eyes when she glanced up at Alya, a secret glimmering within the blue depths of them. Alya stared curiously, intending to ask what it was about…but then Marinette smiled, and the sadness of it struck Alya dumb.

“…I’m not so sure,” Marinette said, but then left it at that.

Alya frowned. Was her best friend intent on driving her crazy with all the things she _wasn’t_ saying here? If so, it was working; she felt her patience beginning to fray. How exactly was she supposed to help Marinette out here when she insisted on being so mysterious about certain aspects about this not-relationship she was fretting over? It was infuriating.

…But it was Marinette, so…

Alya took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to calm down. She would not push any further….this was something that was clearly bothering Marinette, and though she wasn’t saying everything, it was clear that she was desperate for Alya’s advice…so Alya would help as best as she was able. After all, what were friends for?

“Lemme ask you this, Marinette: do you want to get to know this man better?”

Marinette blushed again, but nodded, her expression firm.

“I do.”

Alya shrugged.

“Then just ask to spend time with him. If you make it clear you just want to hang out to get to know him better, without feeling like you’re obligated to date him, he can’t get mad, right? The worst he could do is say no, and if he tries to say that you’re either interested in dating him or you can’t know him at all, then he’s an asshole and you shouldn’t waste any of your time on him. But there has to be _something_ good about this guy if you’re so worried about hurting him…so why not just ask him for a platonic coffee date or two?”

For some reason beyond Alya, Marinette smiled.

“Why not indeed?” She said, sipping her tea. Alya gave her an odd look, but chose to just continue.

“Yeah. It’s harmless, right? If you’re just hanging out, then you get the chance to know him, and if you decide he isn’t what you’re looking for, then you just stay friends. Simple enough, right?”

“You make it sound _too_ simple,” Marinette teased with another smile.

“You mean it’s not?” Alya asked with another quirk of her brow.

Marinette’s smile tightened.

“I wish,” she sighed.

Alya scowled.

“Tease,” she accused, and Marinette cringed, giving a sheepish apology. Alya pursed her lips, but she couldn’t help but forgive Marinette, even if she was driving her crazy with all these cryptic remarks.

Alya just hoped, despite not knowing the whole situation, that her advice was sound.

The last thing she ever wanted was for Marinette to get hurt because of her, even by proxy.

 

* * *

 

“Adrien? Is something wrong?”

Adrien blinked.

“No,” he replied, confused by the question. “Why?”

“You look…uncomfortable,” Nathalie said, the most delicate of inflections placed upon the word ‘uncomfortable’.

Adrien frowned. Did he? That wasn’t the look he was going for…

“And you keep rubbing your stomach,” said the photographer, glancing out from behind his camera. “Did you skip lunch?”

“No, I ate,” Adrien confirmed, frowning down at his hand, which was indeed placed on his stomach. Hmm…he had made no conscious effort to move it there…

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Nathalie wanted to check, frowning in concern. Adrien shook his head.

“I had a very filling lunch, I’m fine.”

And yet…

It was the oddest thing: though he had eaten, and though he _was_ full…there was still a faint hollowness of his stomach that he could just barely feel, like an echo of hunger rather than hunger itself.

It made Adrien frown. If he wasn’t hungry, why would his body react like he was?

“Let’s finish for today,” Nathalie decided, and Adrien cringed.

“Oh, no, we don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” the photographer agreed, glancing at his watch. “I have another shoot I need to get to, anyway. But we have some _excellent_ shots here, _Mon._ Agreste, truly top-notch. But if I, ah, need a few more, just to be safe, I’ll contact your manager at a later date.”

“Oh…okay,” Adrien said, a part of him still feeling guilty for interrupting the shoot, but overall relieved to be finished for the day. And there was still that odd echo of hollowness in his stomach… “Thanks for your hard work.”

Adrien had his make-up removed, and he changed swiftly, eager to leave before Nathalie decided that there was some other work to be done today; heaven forbid he should have an early day. He tugged out his phone as he walked swiftly through the halls so he wouldn’t have to stop and talk to anyone, letting his feet carry him where they would, trusting their judgment. On his phone, he pulled up one of the photos taken when he and Marinette had modeled together, from the ‘Sun and Moon’ shoot. In the end, it was decided that the shoot had to be redone, with a proper model this time around, but Adrien had asked to keep a couple of the photos from the first shoot, especially this one, with Marinette in front of him, her eyes closed as she posed for the camera, looking so lovely that Adrien’s heart almost couldn’t take it. He felt like a creep, though, keeping these pictures and staring at them in his down time—he hadn’t asked Marinette permission to keep such photos, and was almost certain that she would be mortified and disgusted by him if she knew. And every time this thought crossed his mind, his thumb hovered over the trash icon in the corner as he tried to work up the courage to delete the photos from his phone…

He never went through with it. Because he was a coward. A creepy coward. Lord help him.

Unexpectedly, his stomach rumbled. Adrien paused, staring down at it in disbelief.

He didn’t get it—he really had eaten enough at lunch, and he did not feel physically hungry. But at the same time, _what_ was this gnawing inside him that refused to be ignored??

“You sure you don’t want to come with, Boss Lady?”

Adrien jumped, and promptly hid down a side hall when he realized that his feet had unwittingly carried him into the women’s department of Gabriel, Rhys’ familiar voice alerting him to the fact that Marinette was near. He glared down at his feet, cursing them. So much for trust…

“It’s fine, go ahead,” Adrien heard Marinette insist, and he dared a peek around the corner. Rhys and Vera were standing in the hall, peering into the office they were leaving. Neither of them noticed Adrien, so he allowed himself to look for as long as he dared, listening in on the conversation. “I brought lunch today; I’ll eat it when I have a chance.”

“Funny,” drawled Rhys, and Adrien saw her fold her arms, a shrewd look on her dark face, “but I’m pretty sure I didn’t see anything resembling food in the fridge.”

There was an awkward pause, and embarrassment that had nothing to do with Adrien swirled within him. As he blinked, trying to process the emotion that was not his, the conversation continued.

“Come with us, Marinette. The dress can wait, and we can hear your stomach growling.”

On cue, Adrien’s stomach rumbled, and his hand reached down to automatically pat it in a placating fashion.

‘ _Ah,_ ’ he thought, finally understanding. Well, this was new…

“I’ll grab something to eat later,” Marinette insisted somewhere within the office, and Adrien could almost see her frowning, as if it pained her to be torn away from her work for something as inconvenient as the need for nourishment. “Seriously, go without me, or you’re both fired.”

Rhys rolled her eyes, hooking her arm through Vera’s and pulling her away from the open double doors.

“If you say so, Boss Lady. Just don’t get mad at us when you pass out from hunger later.”

“We’ll bring you something back,” Vera promised as Rhys began to drag her away from the doors. Adrien ducked back when Marinette’s head appeared in the doorway, though he noted the troubled look on her face within that brief glance.

“Thank you, Vera, but you don’t have to—”

“We’re gonna anyway,” Rhys insisted, her tone settling the matter. “Bye!”

Adrien waited, his heart pounding a little harder than it should…but then, Marinette just had that effect on him when she was close to him. He heard her sigh, and the sound of her heels signaled her departure away from the doors.

His stomach rumbled once more, and Adrien patted it, smacking his lips.

Hmm…this wouldn’t do. Marinette was apparently starving herself because she couldn’t be bothered to leave the dress she was working on, and now it was affecting Adrien, even if it was only in a distant sort of way. As he stood there, he began to feel a particular hankering for fried veggies and beef…mmm.

His hands in his pockets, Adrien checked that the coast was clear before he emerged from the side hall, heading in the opposite direction of the women’s department. He would be back, and soon…but first, he had to figure out where he could find stir-fry as take-out.

 

* * *

 

Marinette couldn’t focus. Try as she might to drown herself in her work, it was quickly proving impossible, especially when her stomach rumbled its displeasure with her every five minutes.

Marinette cursed under her breath, leaning back from her sewing machine with a groan, closing her eyes and forlornly rubbing her stomach. If only she hadn’t forgotten her lunch at her apartment this morning…she had been kicking herself since eight o’ clock this morning, when she had walked in and realized she was more empty-handed than she ought to have been.

‘ _You could just go home and eat,_ ’ her inner voice reminded her dryly, but Marinette dismissed it. As much as she might wish it, this dress was not going to sew itself, so if she didn’t keep at it—

A soft knock at the open doors startled Marinette; she squawked in surprise and fell out of her chair. As she winced, her backside throbbing dully with pain, she glanced up from where she was sprawled on her back on the floor, her jaw dropping when she spotted who was in her doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien apologized immediately, though to Marinette’s mortification, he looked like he was ready to laugh. “I really don’t mean to keep startling you.”

Marinette groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“If you had any pity for me at all, you’d leave me here to die,” she said dramatically, and heard Adrien’s soft laugh at this.

“May I come in?”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, removing her hands from her face to push herself to sit up, glancing at him ruefully over her shoulder. “Though I hope you’re not going to stay long, simply because I think I’ve reached my embarrassment quota around you today.”

“I’m not judging,” Adrien assured her, though she searched his grin shrewdly as he stepped inside. Her retort was lost in the aroma that wafted in with him, and her eyes dropped to the plastic bag he was holding.

No way…

“Is that…I mean…you don’t have…stir-fry in there, do you…?”

Adrien smiled, though he looked a little sheepish as he set the plastic bag down on Marinette’s desk.

“I do,” he confessed, and she gaped at him. “It’s the weirdest thing— _I_ ate lunch about an hour ago, but I started getting these hunger pangs during my shoot. I didn’t understand until I walked by here, and…well, I overheard the conversation between you and your co-workers.”

Marinette stared at him, feeling herself flush.

“I…that…that happens…?” She asked, startled. Adrien lifted and dropped a shoulder, as if this was nothing serious, but Marinette could tell that he was just as perplexed as she was, deep down.

“Apparently so.”

“Oh god, _I’m so sorry,_ ” Marinette rushed to apologize, her hands going to her face again, though she peeked through her fingers at him, too appalled to look away. “I had no idea! Oh, that’s awful! My bad habits shouldn’t have to affect you too!”

Adrien chuckled a little, a look of grace on his face that only made Marinette feel _worse._ Just how much abuse would he have to endure from her before it was too much??

“If it makes you feel better, this is the first time I’ve had to deal with them.” His smile faded, his golden brow furrowing. “When you say ‘bad habit’…do you mean you do this a lot?”

Marinette felt her face catch fire as her blush deepened. Whoops.

“Only when I’m working on a big project,” she said honestly, gesturing towards the half-finished dress behind her. “It’s something I’m hoping to get done before the week is up.”

Adrien spared the dress one single glance before his green eyes were back on her.

“It’s Wednesday,” he said, seemingly apropos of nothing. Marinette blinked at him.

“Yeah…?”

Adrien stared at her, and the intense look embarrassed her. He seemed to register this, and he looked away, shrugging again.

“Just seems like a break for lunch really wouldn’t set you back much,” he replied, eyeing her from his peripheral vision. Try as he might to hide it, Marinette caught the anxiousness in his gaze, and she sighed.

Great. Now she was making the man who was sort of her soulmate worry about her. If this wasn’t a wake-up call that she needed to do something about said bad habits…

“Thank you for bringing me lunch,” she said modestly, moving over to her desk to pull the wonderful-smelling bag towards her. “How much was it?”

Adrien shrugged again as Marinette took her seat; it seemed to be his go-to gesture today.

“Not too much,” he said cryptically. Marinette paused in opening the bag, frowning up at him.

“Seriously, how much?” She asked, leaning to the side to reach for her purse, where her wallet was nestled. “I want to pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien insisted, smiling at the frown Marinette gave him. How could he be so casual about this, like buying her lunch was no big deal? And more importantly, just how far did his kindness stretch?

“Adrien—”

“Marinette,” Adrien cut her off, his smile fading. “Please.”

Her stomach rumbled, and almost immediately after, Adrien’s stomach followed suit. Marinette stared as Adrien patted his stomach in an absentminded fashion. Goodness…he hadn’t been kidding. How strange.

‘ _Maybe he only bought me lunch so his stomach would quit growling,_ ’ Marinette mused to herself, smiling a little at the thought.

‘ _Did not,_ ’ retorted Adrien’s voice in her mind, and she gave a start. Damn it, how had she forgotten that he could do that? ‘ _I just don’t think it’s good to skip meals._ ’

Marinette pouted at him; he raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly waiting for something. With a dramatic sigh, Marinette pulled her take-out from the bag, the delicious smell making her mouth water. Snatching up her plastic fork, she dug in immediately, with reckless abandon. It wasn’t until she was halfway done that she realized that Adrien was still there, watching her.

And then she wanted to die of embarrassment again. Why was he still there?

“…Did you need something?” Marinette asked him, self-consciously wiping her mouth with a napkin that was graciously provided with her take-out.

Adrien blinked. The question seemed to confuse him; after a moment, it was his turn to blush, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh…uh…” He glanced around, as if hoping to see something that would help him out of this situation. It didn’t seem to do any good; he turned back to her expectant look with a cringe. “…No. I didn’t need anything specifically…”

As he glanced away, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, his thoughts slipped.

‘ _I just wanted to be near you._ ’

Adrien froze, his shoulders hunched as he registered what had just happened.

“Uh, you know what,” he began, looking panicked as he eyed the door, side-stepping towards it. “I’m gonna go. Yeah, I gotta, uh, see a guy about a, um, thing—”

“Adrien,” Marinette interceded, smiling a little as he gave her a darting glance, looking mighty anxious. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you were bothering me. You weren’t. In fact, I’d like you to stay.”

“You…would…?” Adrien questioned, blinking in a surprised manner, as if it was a first for anyone to want him around for anything. Marinette wanted to shake her head at how shocked he looked, but instead remained composed.

“Yes, I would,” she confirmed, her smile fading in favor of becoming serious. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Either Adrien caught her tone or he could feel just how solemn this situation was; either way, he grew serious in response, drawing up a chair to the front of her desk. He sat formally, his shoulders straight, hands resting on his knees as he looked expectantly at Marinette, as if she was a strict headmistress about to reprimand him for sneezing without covering his mouth or something.

“Relax, please,” Marinette requested, trying not to laugh as Adrien let his shoulders slump ever-so-slightly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Okay?” Adrien’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, blushing. “So…?”

‘So’ indeed. How to put this without actually thinking it at him instead of saying it out loud…?

“I wanna go on a coffee date,” Marinette ended up blurting out by accident. Adrien stared at her, and she felt heat creep into her face once more. _Damn it!_ “I mean! A-a _platonic_ coffee date! Just…coffee.”

Adrien still stared at her. Marinette shifted under his gaze, becoming uncomfortable. For once, his mind was silent, and she didn’t like it. What was he thinking?

He seemed to register her discomfort after a moment; he blinked and looked away.

“Oh,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing for some unknown reason. Marinette watched him anxiously, her teeth sinking lower and lower into her lip the longer he stayed silent.

“Is that okay?” She bothered to ask, perhaps a bit too late. But this wasn’t at all what she was expecting from him. Was a platonic date not enough? Did he want to jump into dating her right away, when they barely knew anything about each other, only going by this strange connection that linked them for one reason or another?

“Whoa,” said Adrien, raising his hands. With a start, Marinette realized that her rambling thoughts were conveyed to him, and she cursed herself again for forgetting that that was a thing, swiftly looking away from him. Why couldn’t she ever have a _normal_ conversation with him??

…But then again—

“Nothing about this situation is normal,” Adrien finished the thought for her, thankfully out loud; he must have realized that she was at her limit with their strange, inexplicable link for the day. Marinette sighed heavily.

“Yes,” she agreed darkly, and Adrien smiled. “But…I’ve been thinking. About…about what we should do about this.”

“…Yes?” Adrien asked when she paused, and though his tone was polite, Marinette could feel his anticipation surging through him, though he tried valiantly to keep it quiet. All because he didn’t want to upset her…

More than anything, this made Marinette certain that she was making the right decision.

“Well…I don’t want to rush into anything,” she made sure to clarify immediately, her brows furrowing. “You’re nice, Adrien, and I like you, so far. But…I don’t think that, whatever this is,” she waved a hand in the air between them, the common gesture used to refer to their connection, “should bypass the standard way of…of going about a relationship. You know?”

Adrien blinked again, and Marinette watched as understanding sparked in those lovely green eyes of his.

“Ah,” he said, nodding a little. “That makes sense.”

“It does?” Marinette wanted to check, biting her lip again. She didn’t dare let Adrien just smile and nod along to whatever she was saying just for the sake of agreeing with her, because this was important—she knew what he wanted, and he knew that she knew, so this was her, letting him know what _she_ wanted to see if they could reach some sort of compromise. Connection or not—soulmates or not—Marinette didn’t want to jump into anything like this and risk hurting him.

Especially not after that inexplicably _amazing_ first kiss.

Marinette must have dwelled too long on that last thought; by the time she came back to her senses, Adrien was bright red, his eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. Marinette blushed as well. God, this was not at all what she envisioned when she practiced this conversation in her head.

“I need you to understand, Adrien,” she pressed when he didn’t say anything for a moment, her anxiety climbing another notch or two. He had to understand…before anything happened, she had to make him understand… “I want to get to know you…but just because I want to do that, it doesn’t necessarily mean that…that I’ll want to pursue a relationship with you afterwards. I just…I’m curious, you know, as to why it seems like we’re…we’re…”

“…Meant to be?” Adrien supplied the proper phrase when words failed Marinette. She could feel her face heating up again, and she nodded, not trusting her own voice at the moment, but quickly blowing past that when the tenor of Adrien’s emotions turned hopeful.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Adrien. And I’m afraid…I mean, I don’t want to do anything that’ll get your hopes up, only for me to…change my mind, and decide that this isn’t what I want. I don’t want to break your heart in the process of me trying to figure _mine_ out.”

She seemed to startle Adrien with this declaration. He said nothing for a moment, staring at her with those wide green eyes that she couldn’t bear to look into for too long, for they were too beautiful, and the thought of seeing them pained again because of something she did caused _her_ a lot more anguish than she expected. As she wrestled with her unreasonable emotions (and they always became unmanageable when she was around Adrien), he finally spoke.

“I’m not made of glass, Mari,” he said softly, though he arched an eyebrow, as if the notion itself was ridiculous. “It’s not like I’ll break if things don’t work out the way I’d like.”

‘ _Won’t you?_ ’ Marinette thought without meaning to, thinking of his face the day she had kissed him on the set of a photo shoot and made him feel nothing, just to prove a point.

Adrien cringed and sighed.

“Well, no one likes rejection,” he said baldly, but then shrugged. “But I’d find a way to move on. Do you think, for one second, that I’d want you to be with me if it wasn’t actually what you wanted?” He smiled a little, the sight melting Marinette, though she hated to admit it. “Don’t you think I want you to be happy, too?”

Of course he did, because that was just the kind of person he was, as far as Marinette could tell: sweet, funny, caring, kind…and such a creature wanted to be with _her_ of all people. Not that she was undeserving of someone like Adrien, but…she had to wonder how good her karma actually was for such a person to show up in her life.

Again, Adrien reacted to her thoughts, blushing and rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hearing stuff like that from someone as wonderful and accomplished as you is embarrassing,” he muttered, and Marinette sputtered a laugh, shaking her head. What a ridiculous situation this was…

“So?” She prompted when her giggles had subsided, biting her lip and willing herself to be serious. “Do you want to try getting to know each other a little better, so we can try and figure out this mystery of our shared thoughts and…and all that stuff?”

Adrien pretended to think about it, and Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes as he made a show of it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Finally, after a moment or two, he smiled at her, and the room was suddenly a whole lot brighter.

“I don’t see anything wrong with us getting to know each other better,” he agreed, and Marinette let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding until now. Great. That was one hurdle down…

“Let’s shake on it,” she insisted, leaning forward and offering her hand to Adrien. When he gave her a strange look, confusion emanating from him, she pursed her lips. “C’mon, it’ll make it official.”

Adrien snorted.

“If you say so,” he said, chuckling to himself as he took her hand and gave it a firm shake. Despite his obvious amusement at the gesture, however, he was slow to release her hand, and Marinette couldn’t help but note the tenor of longing that invaded his thoughts, even as he swiftly tried to lock it away. This made her frown.

“Why do you do that?” She asked him, tilting her head to one side as she inspected him, her brows furrowing. “I know you don’t mean to share all your thoughts with me—it’s not like either of us can help it—but why is your first reaction to immediately stifle them? It isn’t healthy to repress your emotions, you know…”

It was meant to be a joke, but as she said the words, something passed behind Adrien’s eyes—a shadow—before he smiled his model smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said to Marinette’s questioning look. “Force of habit.”

‘Force of habit’…?

Marinette almost asked…but then changed her mind. There would be time for that later. Instead, she decided to pursue the topic that brought up the subject of his repression: the fact that he seemed to want to touch her, very much.

It was strange to her that he felt so strongly about this; she couldn’t fathom the reason. Was it perhaps because they were a little freer with physical intimacy when they were dreaming together? Or had he just been wishing to touch her this whole time, ever since they discovered how much they meant to each other by Fate’s design?

Curious now, Marinette rounded the desk. Adrien watched her, his body turning automatically towards her as she approached him, speculating. She didn’t bother to disguise her ponderings, wanting to see his reaction. Other than the blush that filled his face, he didn’t react, not even when she lifted a hand that paused, hesitating for the briefest moment in the air, before her fingertips made contact with his cheek, sliding across it until her palm rested against his face.

Adrien twitched; his hands were balled into fists on his knees, and Marinette could feel just how very hard he was working to keep control of himself, like he had to actually _restrain_ himself from touching her. The force of his emotion nearly overwhelmed her, making her wonder: was it just because it was her? Or had it been way, _way_ too long since the last time Adrien had been given any kind of physical affection?

“It’s okay,” she murmured to him, lifting her other hand to rest on his face as well, but being careful not to bring her face any nearer, because she didn’t want a repeat of the _last_ time that happened. They were supposed to be taking it slow…but stuff like this was okay, wasn’t it? It wasn’t inherently sexual to touch his face, or anything…

‘ _It’s okay,_ ’ she repeated herself, mentally this time as she felt Adrien’s restraint begin to crack; with her final word of approval, he suddenly yanked her to him. Marinette squeaked in surprise suddenly falling into him, but he made sure she didn't go far, his arms going around her, holding her tightly as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The release that washed through him with so simple of an action surprised Marinette; she held him close in return, almost afraid that his whole self would wash away with the emotion flooding him at the moment. But it was only when he let out a sigh that sounded so satisfying, so content, that Marinette realized how much this actually meant to him, and though she, too, was enjoying the closeness, her heart nearly broke at the thought of how touch starved he must have been for a simple hug to mean so much.

“ _Ahem._ ”

Marinette froze, and then she and Adrien jumped apart, the model nearly falling out of his chair. As she helped him right himself, Marinette’s eyes went to the doorway, and she sighed inwardly at the sight of Rhys and Vera standing there, Vera looking very surprised, Rhys looking smug.

Of _course_ they would choose _now_ to come back to the office…

“Uh…” Adrien began, and Marinette searched his thoughts with him as he attempted to think of something to say…but there was nothing currently in his mind that would diffuse the situation, and after a brief moment of panic, he quickly excused himself and fled from the office, leaving Marinette staring after him. Oh, poor Adrien…it probably wasn’t good for his image to be seen canoodling with one of the employees of his father’s company…

She was suddenly afraid for him, of what such terrible rumors would do to his image...not to mention Marinette's career as well, since Adrien's father was free to hire _and_ fire anyone he pleased...

“Not a word,” she immediately instructed her assistants as they entered the office, both looking as if they were trying not to laugh.

Rhys was the first to shrug it off.

“Sure, Boss Lady. Hey, you don’t mind if I eat this cookie, right? We brought it back for you, but uh, I think you’ve had enough sugar for today. Don’t you agree, Vera?”

“Don’t drag me into this.”

Marinette sighed, massaging her temples.

Even if only indirectly, she would not be hearing the end of this for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touch-starved Adrien is one of my strongest headcanons.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~what no i am not projecting how dare you suggest such a thing go to ur room~~
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this bit of fluff. Things'll probably get sweeter and more vomit-inducing from now on. XP
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much drama in BTU = an MTB update.
> 
> You're welcome. ;D
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

She really should have known better than to call Alya over here.

Marinette held in her sigh, watching in resignation as her best friend practically tore her closet apart, searching through her wardrobe for ‘the perfect date outfit’.

“It’s _not_ a date,” Marinette said for the umpteenth time, stubborn upon this point. After all, the whole purpose of this… _outing_ …was for Marinette to figure out if she _wanted_ to date Adrien in the first place, Fate be damned. Just because he seemed to be her soulmate, and just because he was really funny and nice, and just because he was beautiful….and just because Marinette hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he stumbled into her life…none of that meant that she _had_ to be with him! She was in charge of her _own_ love life, damn it!

“Oooh, this is cute!” Alya enthused, apparently finally satisfied. Marinette glanced up as her best friend lifted a dark green and black plaid mini-skirt. Huh…Marinette had forgotten she even had that. “It shows just enough leg: it’s the sweet spot right in between ‘I _could_ be a can-can dancer’ and ‘I _am_ a can-can dancer’.”

Marinette let out a snort. Interesting description, to say the least.

“It’s not quite warm enough for a skirt that short, I don’t think,” she bothered to pitch in, but Alya waved a careless hand, nearly missing Marinette when she tossed the skirt onto the bed.

“So you’ll wear knee-high socks, no big deal,” she insisted, turning back to Marinette’s closet. “Now, to find you the perfect top…”

Marinette sighed out loud this time, choosing to pick up after the mess Alya was making instead of just sitting there; it made her less anxious to move around and do something rather than watching her diabolical friend work.

“So,” said Alya as she thumbed through the clothes Marinette began to hang back up in her closet, “where’re are you guys going on this _date?_ ”

“It’s _not a—_ ” Marinette paused, shooting a scowl at the smirk across Alya’s face, realizing that she was messing with her. It had _really_ been a mistake for her to call her over for help… “I don’t know. The current game plan is to meet at the Eiffel Tower. Maybe we’ll go to a café from there. I don’t know for sure, yet.”

She watched Alya tilt her head from her peripheral vision as she carefully re-hung a dress her best friend had tossed aside a half hour ago.

“So you’ve agreed to go out with this guy, but you have no idea where you’re going…?” The note of danger in Alya’s tone made Marinette nervous. “Do I need to follow you two in a trench coat with binoculars?”

“Please don’t.”

“But do I _gotta,_ though?”

“Alya, please.”

Alya raised her hands.

“All right, fine. But if you don’t text me in ten minute intervals throughout the day, I’m storming Gabriel and demanding some answers from the head honcho there.”

The image of Alya breaking into Gabriel and actually interrogating Gabriel Agreste on the whereabouts of his son and her best friend made Marinette want to laugh out loud and faint with exhaustion all at the same time. Turning, she took Alya’s shoulders, giving her a serious look.

“Please calm down,” she said slowly and concisely, hoping that Alya would hear her. “This is just me meeting a guy I _might_ be interested in for a day out. Just one day. He’s not going to kidnap me, force me down a well and wear my skin, okay?”

Alya blinked, and then frowned.

“Now you’ve put the image in my head. I’m _definitely_ following you around tomorrow.”

“Alya, oh my _god._ ”

“Hey, relax! I’m so good at recon by now, you probably won’t even know I’m there.”

“You are not allowed to stalk me when I’m on my date.”

“Says who?” Alya challenged with a mischievous grin, causing Marinette to groan and drop her hands from her best friend’s shoulders. She was a lost cause at this point, wasn’t she?

“I’ll tell Nino,” she threatened half-heartedly as she bent to pick up a pair of slacks. Behind her, Alya scoffed.

“So? I’ll just bring him along, too. He can be the Watson to my Sherlock.”

It really, _really_ had been a bad idea for Marinette to call Alya over here…

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me figure out what to wear?” Marinette reminded Alya, pushing her back to face the closet. “Go back to being manic about _that._ ”

“Oh, right.” As Alya resumed her search for a top, Marinette shook her head, eyeing her phone. Maybe it wasn’t too late to cancel this thing altogether if Alya really did take it upon herself to spend her Saturday following her and Adrien around…

But then Adrien’s face popped into Marinette’s head, and she pictured how disappointed a cancellation would make him. She sighed again, heavier this time. No, she couldn’t do that. Not only would it disappoint Adrien, but it would depress her as well, considering they had gone through some difficulty to schedule this get-together, since she and Adrien were so busy with their respective careers…

“Ah- _ha!_ ”

Marinette spun around, startled, just in time for Alya to push a black blouse onto her, smoothing out the lacy top against Marinette’s shoulders and collarbone.

“Hold that,” Alya instructed, making Marinette grasp the hanger the blouse was attached to before she darted to the bed, snatched up the skirt, and placed it against Marinette as well, overlooking the effect with an approving nod. “Yep: _perfect._ ”

Marinette glanced over at the mirror that hung on the back of her closet door, her lips twisting as she inspected herself. It was a good combination: the blouse was just the right amount of cute, as was her mini-skirt; it was the kind of outfit she’d wear to lunch with a friend, which made her feel like it wasn’t so date-like. That made her feel a bit better.

“And you can wear your hair up in a bun,” Alya decided, wrapping Marinette’s free hand around the hanger of the skirt so she could move around her, brushing her raven locks back into a bun she secured with her hands. “Ooh, and you can wear studded earrings, we could put green eyeshadow on you—”

“I was actually thinking of, er, understating my make-up,” Marinette admitted, sheepishly meeting Alya’s disapproving expression in the mirror. “I, um, don’t want to seem too eager…”

Alya shook her head, but ended up shrugging.

“Do what you want,” she invited, dropping her hands so Marinette’s hair fell back down, “but just because it ‘isn’t a date’ doesn’t mean you can’t look good.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the air quotes Alya used, but her display of annoyance was ruined by her smile as she turned to face Alya.

“Thank you,” she made sure to tell Alya; despite all the fussing, this was one less thing Marinette had to fret about tomorrow. Alya gave her a wink, grinning in response.

“Anytime, girl. What’re best friends for?”

“Now promise me I won’t see you following me around tomorrow.”

To this, Alya’s grin widened.

“Oh, I promise you won’t _see_ me,” she emphasized with another wink, and Marinette sighed. As much as it pained her to admit…that was probably the best she was going to get out of her devious best friend.

Besides, with her _not_ -date coming up with her maybe-soulmate tomorrow, Marinette had bigger things to worry about.

 

* * *

 

He had shown up _way_ too early.

Adrien adjusted his sunglasses and shifted his feet, self-conscious. He looked too eager, didn’t he, showing up a half-hour earlier than he should’ve. Now he had nothing to do but stand here and look foolish, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting, plucking at the red button up shirt he’d thrown on “casually” when he couldn’t _stop_ himself from fidgeting, fussing with the ends of it, unable to decide if it looked better tucked in his black jeans or pulled over them, alternating between buttoning his cuffs and unbuttoning and pushing his sleeves up, unsure which one looked the most casual. He was driving himself crazy in his own head, facilitating between reminding himself that it was _not a date_ and to be _cool_ , and severe anxiety over what the day would bring. This was basically his one shot to convince Marinette that he was just a normal guy, despite the fact that he could hear her thoughts and experience her emotions and—okay, he was getting off topic, today was _not_ the day to focus on the weirdness that was their connection—

Oh no, were those girls looking at him? Shit, how weird did he look right now? He folded his arms and tried to look relaxed, but his leg betrayed him, bouncing anxiously as he sat on the bench, waiting the half-hour out before he could meet Marinette. And those girls kept looking at him, whispering something to each other excitedly. Adrien slumped down, frowning as he adjusted his sunglasses once again. He really should have worn a hat, too—if he was recognized right now—

‘ _Okay, stay calm…this isn’t actually a date, it’s just…two people, coworkers even, hanging out. No big deal, no big deal…_ ’

Adrien blinked.

That voice in his head was not his.

…But if he was hearing it, then she must be close…

Adrien glanced around, his eyes catching sight of Marinette the minute he started looking—

His jaw dropped at the sight of her, dark hair tied into a bun at the top of her head, save for a couple strands that framed her face, which she tucked nervously behind her ears before tugging them out again, as if she just remembered their purpose. Her blouse was short-sleeved and nothing but lace at the top, gradually merging with the black cotton that made up the rest of her shirt, and her black and green plaid mini-skirt came down to mid-thigh, leaving just a few centimeters of skin bare before her black knee-high socks took over, disappearing into the black ankle boots she kept spinning around in, pacing in what appeared to be an anxious manner. She was facing away from Adrien at the moment, but as she turned on her heel to pace the other way, Adrien could see the way her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, pink from her chosen lipstick, her eyes lined with green.

Holy shit…she was _adorable._

As Adrien got up to approach her, her nervous inner voice continued to ramble in his head:

‘ _No sign of Alya either…I really hope she didn’t actually decide to follow me here, that would be the_ last _thing I need. She means well, I know, but_ still _, I just don’t need the added stress on my first date with—no! It’s_ not a date!’

Marinette shook her head so fiercely that the bun atop her head wobbled, and Adrien had to actively work to keep himself from laughing as he casually moved towards her. While he was moving, he saw her glance anxiously at her watch.

‘ _Ugh, and I got here way too early. He’s probably gonna think I’m too eager,_ ’ her thoughts continued to fret as she walked away from him, continuing to pace. Adrien stopped short; she would turn on her heel in a moment and see him, so all he really had to do was wait, inwardly relieved that he wasn’t the only one who was anxious about today. ‘ _Well,_ _it’s not like he has to know that I got here a half hour early…I could just pretend that I had only been waiting for a few mi_ — _!_ ’

“Ahh!” Marinette yelped when she turned on her heel again and finally caught sight of him, her inner monologue interrupted as she shouted out loud, jumping back in surprise. Adrien cringed as he lifted his sunglasses.

“I really, _really_ don’t mean to keep startling you, I’m sorry,” he apologized, caught between hilarity and chagrin. Marinette groaned, hanging her head with a hand pressed over her heart.

“We need to get you a bell or something to wear,” she complained, glancing up under her lashes to frown at him. Despite how bad he felt—he should’ve said something earlier—her pout was adorable, and it was hard for Adrien to keep an appropriate expression of repentance when his lips were curving into a smile.

“You look really cute,” he decided to compliment her. Marinette’s face flushed red, and she dithered on the spot, tugging at a strand of her hair in a self-conscious manner.

“O-oh, thanks,” she mumbled, a shy smile spreading across her face. “It was just something I…threw together…”

Marinette paused…and then she huffed, meeting Adrien’s eyes with a chagrined look.

“That’s a lie—I asked a friend to come over last night and help me pick out what to wear,” she confessed on the spot. Adrien blinked in surprise.

“Oh…well, I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me otherwise…”

“Yes you would’ve,” Marinette disagreed with a sigh, shaking her head. “I probably would’ve accidentally thought about it sometime today, and you would have heard it, so…”

She waved a hand through the air, letting her sentence trail off. Adrien cringed.

“It’s, uh, kind of hard to keep cards close to your chest in our…situation…isn’t it?”

Marinette’s lower lip jutted out.

“We might as well not even bother,” she huffed. Adrien smiled a little.

“Well, if it makes you feel better…I changed at least twelve times before I decided on this.” He waved a hand at himself and cringed. “This is why my outfits are usually chosen for me.”

He grew self-conscious again as Marinette eyed him up and down, her eyebrows scrunching together.

‘ _Not fair,_ ’ her mind complained, and Adrien blinked.

“What?”

Marinette sighed again, her face heating once more as she regarded him.

“…It’s not fair that you look so good without even trying,” she said.

Adrien felt blood flood his face; his easy blush embarrassed him even more. He glanced away quickly, covering his mouth with a hand, but it was too late—Marinette had already seen, and she was smirking.

“You’re so cute,” she teased, but then flushed herself when she realized what she had said. And then they both stood there for a moment or two, feeling a little shy and awkward.

Adrien decided to be the one to break the silence first.

“Ahem…so…” he began slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced askance at Marinette. “Um…coffee…?”

“Coffee sounds great,” Marinette replied, and Adrien felt a foreign relief flood him, which relaxed him as well. Hmm…just how much would they be influenced by each other’s moods…?

“So,” Adrien said, waiting until Marinette fell into step beside him as they crossed _Pont d’léna,_ the Seine sparkling merrily in the afternoon sun below. “Um…how has your weekend been?”

At this, Marinette rolled her eyes. Adrien cringed, afraid that he was boring her with small talk, but—

“I was pretty much crazed all day yesterday,” she admitted with a huff and a wave of her hand. “I went into the office to try and finish some work I was behind on, but Vera had come in, too, and she was struggling with this invoice Rhys had filed, because she couldn’t understand the shorthand, so we had to spend about an hour doing that—I almost called Rhys in to do it herself, but she’s always out of Paris on the weekends, visiting family up in—” Marinette paused, and Adrien felt chagrin begin to roll off her in waves.

“…Uh…you didn’t ask for all this information, though,” she concluded in a small voice, biting her lip self-consciously as she tugged on a strand of her hair.

This made Adrien frown.

“I don’t mind listening to you talk,” he bothered to let her know, giving her a small smile when she glanced his way. “It’s interesting, hearing your thoughts.”

At this, Marinette gave a helpless smile.

‘ _You hear my thoughts whether you want to or not,_ ’ she reminded him non-verbally. Adrien grinned, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t mind, isn’t it?” He teased, and Marinette let out a small giggle. She was _so_ adorable…

They reached a café before too long—Paris was lousy with them. Adrien quirked a brow, and Marinette gave an assenting shrug, signaling that anywhere was fine with her. And so they headed in, Adrien holding the door open for her. Marinette’s expression twitched, but she neither said nor thought anything as they entered the café.

The first official snag of the not-date—the coffee bill.

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, catching Adrien’s hand just as he lifted his wallet, after letting her go first and adding his coffee order to hers. Adrien glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow at that exaggerated pout she was wearing.

“Paying for coffee?” He said innocently. Marinette wasn’t fooled for a second, though, and she rested her free hand on her hip as she frowned up at him. Adrien tried not to fawn over how cute she was, but either the look on his face or his feelings were transmitted, and she blushed, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“I can pay for my own coffee…” she mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. Adrien slowly lowered the hand that clutched the wallet, frowning slightly.

‘ _I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,_ ’ he assured her mentally, waiting until she glanced up at him again before he smiled. ‘ _I know this isn’t a date, Marinette. I won’t buy your coffee if you don’t want me to, but I really don’t mind paying for it, either._ ’

Marinette’s cheeks bulged, and Adrien had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. But he couldn’t help it—she looked so adorable when she was at odds with herself.

And he could _hear_ her arguing with herself, stuck between letting it go and enforcing the ‘not a date’ atmosphere. Adrien patiently waited, ignoring the barista’s increasingly frustrated look, unwilling to do anything until Marinette decided what she wanted…

“Look,” the barista huffed after a minute, “if you two need some time to decide on what you’re doing—”

“Ah, no, no, it’s fine,” Marinette cut in, grimacing as she glanced at the people waiting behind them, clucking their tongues impatiently. Adrien met a few of their glares with a measured look, daring them with his eyes to say anything. They each looked away awkwardly, and Adrien returned his attention to Marinette, who was glancing up at him anxiously.

“You can…pay for the coffee,” she relented at last, though it looked like it pained her to allow this date-like action. Suppressing his smirk—though he was certain his amusement was transmitted, due to the flush that spread through Marinette’s face—Adrien gave the barista his card, graciously taking the receipt and leading the way over to the waiting area to await their order. As they waited, Adrien handed her the receipt.

“In case you decide you want to pay me back later,” he said with a slight grin, his amusement growing at the relief that flooded through Marinette, transforming her pensive expression into something more positive. This time, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s just coffee, Marinette.”

“I know…just…” Marinette pouted again, and it was ridiculous how tempted Adrien was to kiss her…oh, but he shouldn’t do that… “It’s the principle.”

“The principle of this not being a date. Right.” There was an awkward pause in which they just looked at each other. After a moment, Adrien tilted his head in curiosity.

‘ _So what exactly should I avoid doing on this not-date?_ ’ He wondered, mostly to himself. But because they were connected, naturally, Marinette heard his musings, and her brow puckered in thought.

‘ _You don’t have to pay for my stuff,_ ’ she thought at him immediately, and Adrien snorted as another barista set their coffee orders down in front of them.

‘ _I got that,_ ’ he thought in reply, taking up both travel cups and nodding at a free space at the counter in front of the windows of the café. Marinette led the way, and Adrien tried not to watch the way she walked in front of him…but he slipped a couple times. The way Marinette glanced at him, her cheeks painted red as they sat down made him sure that she _knew,_ and he smiled in apology, passing her her drink like a peace offering. Marinette accepted it, but she eyed him as she took a sip, her gaze slow as it roamed over him.

Adrien cleared his throat, feeling suddenly hot around the collar.

An eye for an eye, was it…?

“What else?” He prompted when he wasn’t sure if he could take the silence much longer. Marinette tilted her head to the side, her eyes going to the view outside the window as she considered.

“You don’t have to hold open doors for me,” she added, and Adrien snorted.

“Don’t be a gentleman,” he teased, grinning at the flustered look on Marinette’s face. “Got it.”

“No, I don’t mean—ugh,” Marinette sighed, dropping her head into her hand. This made Adrien feel bad—was he stressing her out?

“No,” Marinette answered his concerned musing, peeking through her fingers at him. “It’s just…well…”

He heard her playing with words in her mind, searching through them, attempting to find the correct way to assess this situation. He waited, idly sipping his coffee, pretending not to be affected by every word she touched upon, considered, and ultimately cast aside in favor of a better one. The way her mind worked was very interesting…

Finally, after a minute or two, she huffed, letting her hands fall into her lap.

“This is ridiculous,” she decided, frowning. “I’m twenty-five years old, and I still have _butterflies,_ like I’m a pre-teen on my first date!”

“…I thought this wasn’t a date,” Adrien pointed out, hiding his smile behind the back of his hand. Marinette scowled at him.

“It’s _not,_ but…” she sighed again with a shake of her head. “We’re already…so close, you know?”

Adrien blinked, glancing in between them. He didn’t think they were sitting especially close…

“No, not like, physically,” Marinette corrected his musings with a wave of her hand. “I mean… _this._ ”

She waved a hand in the air between them.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ Adrien thought, and Marinette nodded.

“Right. So…it’s kind of hard, you know, to make sure this _isn’t_ a date when…”

‘ _When it kind of already feels like a lost cause,_ ’ her mind grumbled as her face grew beet red.

Oh…

Adrien felt himself turning red as well, and he rubbed the back of his hot neck. He…wow. Here he was, believing that all this time he was the only one who felt so strongly about this, but…

He glanced back at Marinette, who was quietly watching him, her eyes soft as she gazed at him. This whole time, she had been the one to insist that they take things slow, figure out where they were before anything happened…but Adrien had thought it was because she didn’t want to get his hopes up.

But what if it wasn’t about just getting _his_ hopes up…?

Marinette flushed darker at the conclusion he reached, and she dropped her eyes again, which only served as a confirmation. Which made Adrien blush _more._

Oh _jeez._

“You’re so cute,” he said without thinking, and though Marinette’s face was completely red at this point, she somehow found it within herself to stick her tongue out at him. And Adrien might as well have thrown in the towel right then, because he _knew_ there was no way he would be free of this creature ever again after this. Why was she so adorable?

“You know, maybe this doesn’t have to be so tough,” he reasoned after they had both taken a moment to get over their embarrassment. Marinette glanced over at him, her hands clutching her travel cup, obvious doubt in her eyes. Adrien laughed at her expression. “I’m serious! Maybe the reason we’re having issues here is because we’re trying so hard to _not_ make it a date, y’know? Maybe it wouldn’t kill us to relax and just…be with each other.”

Wait. Rephrase.

“…Be _around_ each other,” Adrien corrected himself sheepishly. Marinette’s dark brows furrowed as she stared into the distance, chewing her bottom lip.

‘ _Am I making this too hard?_ ’ She wondered, and though Adrien wanted to deny it immediately, he could…sort of tell that Marinette was only asking _herself_ that. He…didn’t know why, but…somehow, he was starting to be able to discern what exactly Marinette meant to tell him…and what was just her naturally thinking. He wondered if this was a side-effect of the connection: as they grew closer, and spent more time around each other…would this _thing_ between them continue to grow and change as well…?

It took Adrien a bit to realize Marinette was staring at him; he blinked himself back to the moment, only to immediately get lost in those blue eyes of hers, so completely focused on him that he felt his temperature rising again. God, if this continued, either one or both of them were going to pass out from too much blood rushing to their heads.

“…You might have a point,” Marinette admitted. “About the ‘relaxing’ thing,” she clarified, seeming to note Adrien’s confusion with a slight smile. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be as difficult as I’m making it.”

“You’re not—”

“You’re being a gentleman again,” Marinette interrupted with a dry look, and Adrien shut his mouth, not quite sure whether he was being reprimanded or not. Marinette smiled a little, patting his hand, which tingled long after she had removed it. “Seriously, you don’t have to work to spare my feelings all the time. I know I’m the one who’s been fighting this…”

Again, Adrien opened his mouth to assure her that he wasn’t trying to rush her into anything—but she pressed her fingertips to his lips, and he stopped, his nerves coming alive at her touch. He flushed at how easy it was for her to fluster him, with just a _touch._ It really wasn’t fair.

Marinette gave him an apologetic smile, slowly drawing her hand away from him. Reluctance was in the motion…hm…maybe Adrien wasn’t the only one who was so affected by her…

“Let’s get out of here,” she insisted, turning in her seat and hopping down from the stool, since her legs were just a bit too short for her to simply stand up from the stool. Adorable.

She turned back to him with a huff.

“Stop comparing me to kittens in your head and let’s go,” she insisted, her face red despite her huffiness. Not bothering to hide his grin this time, Adrien stood and followed her out of the café.

“So…are we going to be relaxing now?”

“Yes,” Marinette insisted, looking determined. Adrien chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay, then how about a game?”

Marinette eyed him carefully from her peripheral vision.

“…What game?” She wanted to check, as if she expected him of planning something nefarious.

“Twenty questions?” Adrien suggested. Marinette rolled her eyes and laughed.

“I might’ve known.”

“Is it that strange that I want to get to know you?” Adrien asked, tilting his head to the side. Marinette tried to hide her blushing with another sip from her travel cup, but Adrien still saw.

“Just never had anyone so interested before,” she admitted. Adrien didn’t believe that for a second—the soulmate bond notwithstanding, who _wouldn’t_ be fascinated by Marinette? But he let it go.

“Is that a yes, then?” He wanted to check. Marinette laughed, seeming amused by his eagerness.

“Oh, all right. I’ll even let you go first.”

“ _Awesome._ ” Adrien decided to start small. “Favorite color?”

“Pink,” Marinette replied, raising an eyebrow a moment later when Adrien just stared at her. “What?”

“Nothing…just…I thought it was green,” he admitted, _hating_ the fact that he could feel himself pouting. But he had been so sure, and _so_ excited to guess something correctly about her…she was wearing a lot of it today, so he just thought…

Marinette stared at him, her lips pursed as she thought.

‘ _…Green is a definite second,_ ’ she decided within her mind, staring intently at him. It took Adrien a second to catch her meaning, but once he did, he had to hurriedly look away, or she would catch that stupid grin that was spreading across his face—hell, she probably could _feel_ how pleased he was at something so simple. Ugh, he was such a sap.

“Same question,” Marinette said to him. Adrien glanced over at her, at her expectant expression, her blue eyes bright and curious…

“Blue,” he said without hesitation, and had the distinct pleasure of watching Marinette flush as red as he undoubtedly was; it was her turn to look away in embarrassment, and Adrien laughed softly. She was _so cute._

“It’s your turn to ask a question,” she reminded him, probably to distract him. Adrien grinned, and they spent most of the afternoon in interrogations and playful banter, going way past twenty, but neither of them seemed to care. Adrien certainly didn’t; he had learned a lot of valuable information about Marinette: she had dreamed of being a seamstress since she was a little girl, she was part-Chinese but couldn’t speak a _lick_ of the language, her parents ran a bakery, and though her favorite color _was_ pink (with green being that oh-so-close second), she was also very fond of red and black, for as long as she could remember. Adrien loved watching her talk—she grew less and less self-conscious with every question he asked her, laughing easily with him and groaning at his pun-based humor, unafraid to rib him back as he teased her.

It was so refreshing to be with her, so _freeing._ While he was with her, Adrien forgot that he was a supermodel, forgot that he was perpetually the representative of his father’s company, forgot that his name was even _Adrien Agreste_. With Marinette, he could just be…Adrien. And she didn’t ask for any more than that, completely satisfied with him as he was.

Adrien knew it was (logically) too soon to be in love with her, of course, but, considering that they were supposedly soulmates…

Marinette paused in her recounting of a mischievous little girl she used to babysit, looking up at him from where she sat on the bench beside him as they took a break from walking around, trees whispering around them in the light spring breeze. Adrien blinked, wondering why she was looking at him like that.

“…I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, frowning slightly, “did you ask me a question I missed?”

Marinette bit her lip, her hands idly playing with the spoon and cup she held, where her frozen yogurt had been housed before she ate it all.

“No…” She glanced away, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “It just…surprises me, I guess. How…easily…you consider me your soulmate.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence passed, in which Adrien fiddled with his empty frozen yogurt cup as well, feeling himself frown.

 “Can I ask why that is?” Adrien asked before he could ruminate on it long enough for the thoughts to pass onto Marinette.

Marinette glanced up from her empty cup, blinking wide blue eyes at him.

“Oh…um,” she began, shifting on the bench as she chewed on her lip. “Well…I mean, the thought of being…soulmates…it’s, uh…well, it sounds ridiculous.”

Adrien blinked, and Marinette groaned in frustration once again.

“I don’t mean—like—it’s something you read about, or something you watch in a movie,” she continued, beginning to gesture more the more frustrated she got with trying to properly express her thoughts on this situation. “It doesn’t happen in _real_ life…”

‘ _Mm-hm,_ ’ Adrien thought at her, and Marinette made a face at him.

“You know what I mean,” she insisted with a roll of her eyes. “It’s nothing against you, Adrien, really. I just…well…how would we explain this to our friends and family? ‘Mama, Papa, this is Adrien Agreste. He’s my boss’ son, a supermodel, oh, and we’re also soulmates!’” Marinette shook her head, giving Adrien a wry glance. “You being Gabriel Agreste’s son and a supermodel is surreal enough. Add the… _abnormality_ of this situation, and they would probably have me committed.”

Adrien tilted his head at this, beginning to frown. He didn’t like hearing that, being _othered_ like that. So what if he was Gabriel Agreste’s son? So _what_ if he was a supermodel? What did that matter here?

“I’m just a person,” he pointed out, working to keep his tone light, though it hurt him to have to point this simple fact out to _Marinette_ of all people, who had been so good about treating him like a normal human being all day...well, as normal as 'normal' was for them. Marinette opened her mouth, looking like she was about to say something sarcastic…but then she stopped, peering up at him in concern. Idly, Adrien wondered if something was wrong with his expression; he rearranged it to something more polite…but Marinette’s frown only deepened.

“…I know,” she replied to him after a moment. She lifted a hand, a bit hesitant at first…but then her fingers slid over his skin, palm resting against his cheek. Immediately, Adrien laced his fingers with hers and pressed his face into her palm, closing his eyes and relishing her touch for as long as he was allowed. He heard Marinette giggle, feeling her fondness for him glow and flourish; he basked in this warmth, sighing in content. How easy it was for her to turn him into putty…he would be more alarmed if she was a wicked woman, but because it was wonderful, kind, funny, beautiful Marinette…

“…Maybe I shouldn’t be so afraid of it,” Marinette mumbled, her voice a lot closer, all of a sudden. Adrien felt warmth press against his forehead, felt Marinette’s breath on his lips. He shivered, clutching her hand tighter, wishing with all his might that she never had to go anywhere too far from him. Marinette laughed again, the sound a little strained.

‘ _Well, if you’re going to be so adamant about it…_ ’

Adrien opened his eyes just in time to see Marinette close hers, just before she pressed her lips to his.

And because he only had a split second to prepare, he had little to no defense against the onslaught of emotions this simple gesture caused him, the absolute _burst_ of heat, like a supernova imploding, its light taking decades, perhaps even eons to fade away, consuming him whole in the blast, but he couldn’t even find it in himself to _care_ , he would _gladly_ be engulfed like this a thousand times over if it meant the tingling warmth would fizzle across his body forever and ever, like he was being remade into something amazing—

Adrien gasped against Marinette’s lips, and she broke away from him, not going too far, but still far enough that Adrien understood that she wanted a break. He felt her breathe, inhaling as he exhaled, and vice versa.

“Second time,” Adrien mumbled in between breaths.

“What…?” Marinette asked, uncomprehending. Adrien slowly opened his eyes, swallowing at the look in Marinette’s, at the haze that stole over those beautiful blue eyes as she gazed up at him from under her lashes, somehow increasing his need and desire for her two-fold, even though he swore he couldn’t want her more…

Because he was still too breathless to speak, Adrien let himself think the words instead, his forehead still resting against Marinette’s.

‘ _That’s the second time you’ve kissed me._ ’

Marinette giggled, looking almost _guilty._

‘ _Two kisses, and we haven’t even been on a proper date yet. The scandal,_ ’ she teased. Adrien sighed through his nose, smiling a little. He didn’t want to ruin the moment by disagreeing with her on this one little point, but…

‘ _…I think it’s too late to deny that this is a date anymore, Mari._ ’

Marinette blinked at that, some of the haze leaving her eyes, as if he had just grounded her from the clouds.

‘ _…I guess so,_ ’ she conceded. Though Adrien grew anxious, some of it eased away as Marinette kept his gaze…but still, he had to ask…

“Does that scare you…?”

Marinette watched him, her thumb stroking his cheekbone, making him almost _purr._

“…Not as much as I thought it would,” she admitted. And it was true—though Adrien could feel _some_ trepidation from her…it wasn’t nearly as much as he feared. In fact—

Marinette raised her other hand to cup his face as well, smiling in encouragement when Adrien hesitantly slid his arms around her.

“So…” he began, hoping to quickly articulate his thoughts before he got lost in her eyes again, “we’ll try to make this work…?”

“Yes,” Marinette agreed, laughing at what must look like a very dopey smile as it spread across Adrien’s face. He leaned in to kiss her again…but then just as quickly, pulled back.

“Are you _sure_?” He wanted to check, not wanting her to feel like she was being pressured into anything.

“I’m sure,” Marinette replied. Satisfied (or so he thought), Adrien leaned in again…only to pull back again as another fear occurred to him.

“You don’t have to agree to be my girlfriend or anything right away—if you need some time to think about—”

“Adrien,” Marinette cut in, her expression turning dry, “I’m probably already in love with you, but if you don’t stop talking and kiss me, we’re going to have problems, _monsieur._ ”

Adrien promptly shut his mouth with a jerky nod before he leaned in and finally kissed Marinette, his triumph echoed by Marinette’s jubilation. As long as she was sure this was what she wanted—as long as that ‘probably’ stood a chance of becoming a ‘definitely’ one day—Adrien would be happy.

So impossibly, inexplicably, and impeccably happy.

 

* * *

 

“So? You satisfied now?”

Nino turned to give his girlfriend an aggrieved look from where they had camped out behind the bushes ever since Marinette and her date had stopped to sit down. Clearly, there was nothing to worry about—from the way they were going at each other, the date seemed to be going well. But the look on Alya’s face suggested that she was yet to be satisfied, and Nino groaned under his breath.

“What is it? You don’t like that you haven’t been introduced to him yet?” He guessed, turning and slumping against the bushes, his arms folded against his chest. “It’s their first date, babe. Give it time.”

“Hmm,” Alya hummed pensively, crouching down next to Nino with a frown on her face. “It isn’t so much that I haven’t met him…there’s something…weird…about him.”

“Weird?”

“Well, about _them,_ ” Alya clarified, gesturing over the bush, to where the impromptu make-out session was no doubt continuing. “Together.”

Nino raised an eyebrow.

“Whaddya mean?” He only spared a glance over the bushes, preferring _not_ to watch Marinette and her date play tonsil hockey. “They seem fine to me.”

Alya shook her head, a concentrated frown on her face.

“It’s the way they react to each other, like…like they’re moving to and around each other…” Nino’s confusion must’ve been evident, for his girlfriend gave up and sighed. “It’s complicated to explain. There’s just something off about them.”

Nino gave a shrug.

“Well, even if you might think that, there’s not much you can do about it, babe,” he pointed out, despite knowing that Alya would _hate_ to hear such words. “If ‘Nette wants to be with him, then she wants to be with him.”

“Even so, there has to be a way to find out more about him,” Alya mused, in full Scheming Mode as she tapped her chin. “A way to get to him…”

“What’re you gonna do, follow him around until he’s alone and then interrogate him about ‘Nette?”

Nino scoffed at the absurdity of such a notion, not noticing the evil glint in Alya’s eyes until she was crouched in front of him, gripping his shoulders.

“No…” Her face split into a wicked grin, “ _you_ are.”

Nino blinked, waiting for the punchline.

When Alya simply continued to grin expectantly at him, he felt his jaw go slack.

“ _Huh?!_ ”

“It won’t be that hard for you!” Alya insisted, her fingers digging into his shoulders, as if she sensed his desire to escape and was determined to prevent it. “You take freelance photography gigs all the time! I’m sure a huge modeling company like Gabriel could use your talent!”

“Noooooo no no no no no,” Nino denied, making an ‘x’ with his forearms. “No way, Al, no can do. _You_ might think there’s something off about the dude, but I’m not about to try an infiltrate a modeling company just to gossip about ‘Nette. No way, not gonna—”

“Nino, _pleaaaase?_ ” Alya pleaded, seizing one of his hands and clutching it to her chest so that his arm ‘accidentally’ pressed against her bosom as she gave him the full-force puppy dog eyes she _knew_ he couldn’t resist. “This is _very_ important to me—this is the first guy Marinette’s been serious about in _forever!_ I just want to make sure he’s not playing games with her, and to do that, I need your help! _Marinette_ needs your help. So _please_ , Nino? _Please?_ ”

As he stared at his girlfriend’s pleading expression, despite knowing it was all a ploy to get her way, Nino felt himself relenting, and he sighed. How the hell did he get himself wrapped up in these situations?

Oh yeah—he was in love with a journalist.

Goddamn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, are we getting somewhere with these two, FINALLY? I think we are!
> 
> LMAO, poor Nino. I put him through so much. ^^;
> 
> But, y'know. This BROTP won't happen by itself... :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised my Tumblr followers an MTB update. It's a couple weeks late, but it's here.
> 
> Have an Investigator! Nino chapter as he does Alya's bidding to try and figure out if Adrien's legit or not. XP
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Nino literally could not believe how easy this had been. All he had to do was show a portfolio to the hiring manager, and suddenly, he was hired. Huh, Gabriel must be lacking in photographers at the moment. He tried not to wonder if ‘unreasonable working conditions’ was the reason.

“ _Yes,_ ” Alya hissed in triumph when Nino had called her to update her on the situation. “Everything’s coming together. All right, all we need to do now is—”

“What’s this ‘we’? I’m the one doing all the work here.”

“Yeah, but I’m the brains behind this situation, now _shush,_ ” Alya insisted, and Nino shook his head. Boy his girlfriend was a handful. “As I was saying, all we need to do is get you onto a shoot with Adrien.”

“Yeaaaah, I don’t think I have any control over that, babe,” Nino informed her, leaning against the counter in the break room, a slight odor in the air…did someone burn coffee or something…? “I’m pretty sure I have to go where they tell me to go.”

“Well, there’s no reason you can’t be more proactive!” Alya reasoned, as if it was Nino’s negative attitude that was holding him back. “If you hear something about Adrien having a shoot, ask if the lead photographer needs help! You never know!”

“Maybe, but I _do_ think there’s a chance that I might come across _too_ eager if I start hunting around for jobs that exclusively involve Adrien Agreste—”

“Look, I don’t care what it takes—we _need_ more information about this guy,” Alya insisted, and Nino sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

“You act like you’re afraid he’ll kidnap Marinette if we don’t check up on him or something.”

“Well he might! He’s rich—you never know with those type of people!”

Okay, she was being ridiculous. Nino was just about to point that out…but his new boss stuck her head in the break room and gestured to him. Looked like it was time to get to work.

“I gotta go, babe. Thanks for wishing me luck at my new gig, by the way.”

“Oh, good luck!” Alya wished belatedly, and Nino snorted, exchanging goodbyes with her as he hung up. Typical Alya—once she was focused on a ‘mission’, she was hard-pressed to think about anything else. Oh well…it _was_ one of the reasons Nino loved her, after all.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jules was saying as Nino followed her, having to stride fully to keep up with her quick steps. “I was honestly at my wits’ end for what to do here—I have an emergency I have to take care of, but _M._ Agreste always insists that I be the lead photographer whenever it comes to his son’s photoshoots, because I’m the best here, but after I showed him _your_ work, he seemed relatively pleased, so I’m hoping you’ll be good enough for what is a pretty simple photoshoot—turn here—it’s basically just Adrien modeling the new line, and he’s a perfect professional, so I doubt you’ll have many problems getting him to do what you want—”

She was talking so fast that Nino could barely keep up, but he _did_ register one very important detail…

“Wait…so I’ll be working with Adrien Agreste today…?”

Jules paused outside of a studio, raising her eyebrows.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope!” Nino said hastily, hitching on what he hoped was a natural-looking smile. “Just…you know, it’s my first day. I thought I’d have to work my way up to the big stars—”

“Well, here at Gabriel, we like to throw you into the deep end right away. _Especially_ since I have something else I need to do.” Jules entered the studio, waving for Nino to follow her as she called, “Adrien, I’m so sorry, but there’s another issue I have to attend to today. Instead, here’s the new photographer who’ll be working with you for this shoot!”

Nino blinked against the bright studio lights, his eyes adjusting quickly to the familiar environment. Standing in the middle of the white backdrop for the photoshoot was the man himself, Adrien Agreste, wearing what looked to be a winter ensemble that Gabriel was putting together. He smiled and nodded politely as Jules introduced him:

“This is Nino Lahiffe. I’ve seen his work, and he is _very_ talented, so I’m leaving you in excellent hands. Just let me know if he ends up giving you a hard time, all right?”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Jules,” Adrien brushed off with a laugh, and Nino sighed inwardly in relief. So far so good. Nino had no tolerance for divas, so if this shoot went south, then Alya was going to have to figure out a new way to get close to Adrien Agreste, because Nino wouldn’t have it.

“Well,” he began after Jules said her goodbyes and departed, “should we get started?”

“Whenever you’re ready, _M._ Lahiffe,” Adrien agreed with a brilliant smile that had Nino blinking. Whoa…was it possible to turn down the wattage of a smile? Because it might be necessary, or Nino would go blind…

“Nino’s good, dude,” Nino replied automatically, and then paused. Oh…was that too unprofessional?

Before he could doubt himself further, Adrien’s grin seemed to relax a little, as did his shoulders.

“Oh, cool. Then you can call me Adrien,” he allowed. Nino smiled a little. Well, wasn’t he just a pleasant person to get along with?

From there, the photoshoot went off without a hitch. Adrien, it turned out, was as easy to joke with as he was to direct. As a matter of fact, he hardly needed direction at all; after twenty minutes, he seemed to just be able to read Nino’s mind, moving and posing exactly the way Nino was about to ask him. It was really impressive—were all mainstream models like him? Or had Nino just lucked out this one time?

At the half-hour mark, Adrien’s manager—Nathalie, Nino thought her name was—called for a break. Nino glanced at his watch in some surprise as he readjusted his camera. Had it really been thirty minutes since they’d started working? It didn’t feel like it at all. It was surprising how easy it was to banter with the guy…but now Nino was starting to feel silly that he had even come here. Alya had sent him to infiltrate Gabriel, only to discover that there was nothing wrong with the dude Marinette may or may not have been seeing. …Of course, thirty minutes didn’t equal a whole lot of knowledge, but—

“How do they look?”

Nino jumped, startled by Adrien’s sudden appearance at his side.

“Jeez! You should wear a bell,” Nino huffed, blinking wide eyes at the model, who grinned in apology.

“Sorry. I…seem to have a habit of sneaking up on people,” he remarked with an amused glint in his eye that Nino didn’t really understand. Shrugging it off, Nino returned to his camera, scrolling through the pictures for Adrien’s benefit. “Wow…Jules was right, you’re really talented!”

Nino felt himself blush.

“It’s nothing,” he brushed the praise off, smiling a little. “How the pictures turn out depends on the source material too, y’know. So the credit really goes to you, in the long run.”

To Nino’s great surprise, Adrien turned red as well, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced away, apparently embarrassed. Huh…odd reaction for a famous supermodel. Wasn’t he used to this kind of praise?

There was a buzzing sound, and as Nino watched, Adrien fished out a cell phone from his pocket. Something about his expression…changed, evolving into what Nino might describe as…sheer bliss. Seriously, the dude looked like a kid on _Noel_ , with how happy an apparent text seemed to make him. Nino looked away, pretending to check more of his photos as he casually said,

“Wow, you look happy. Texting a girlfriend?”

The tapping noises that was Adrien typing paused. Nino chanced a glance over at him, but Adrien was looking away, towards his manager. She was a ways away, on the phone, not paying attention at all. Nino watched as Adrien turned back towards him, ducking his head and smiling…like he was _shy_.

“Well…not exactly…but maybe…?”

Nino blinked. That…was a rather unclear answer, wasn’t it?

“Oh…is it one of those things where you have a dozen ‘girlfriends’?” Nino asked, using his free hand to mimic a quotation mark. Adrien’s blush deepened.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” he said, so earnest that Nino had no choice but to believe him. “It’s just…I’m…not exactly sure where I stand with this woman…so, it’s kind of hard to put a label on her…”

He glanced down at his phone, and Nino saw that goofy grin from before spread across the model’s face again.

“…She’s something, though.”

“Lucky girl, to have the attention of Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien shook his head at this.

“No,” he said firmly, “I’m the lucky one.”

“You like her?” Nino fished, trying to be as subtle as possible while he basically nosed into the love life of someone he barely knew. But Alya was in the back of his mind, urging him on; she wouldn’t be happy if he didn’t at least _try_ to get a definite answer out of Adrien…

Speaking of Adrien, as Nino watched, a little concerned, a positively _dreamy_ look crossed the man’s face, as if he had just discovered Cloud Nine and was floating right then and there.

“…I think I love her,” he admitted with a sigh, his eyes far away.

Nino stared.

He really hoped this guy was talking about Marinette, because he had it _bad_. Nino even felt a little sick looking at him, like he was a bitterly divorced man, secretly envious of a friend’s first love. Seriously, Adrien looked like he had literal _stars_ in his eyes. What was he taking, and where could Nino get some?

“Pardon me.”

Nino glanced over to find Nathalie suddenly at their side, slipping her cell phone into an inner pocket of her blazer.

“Adrien has a very full schedule,” she said pointedly, gesturing to the photoshoot backdrop. “So, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, sure,” Nino agreed, clearing his throat and getting his camera ready as Adrien returned to his former position. As they wrapped up the photoshoot, Nino watched Adrien, pondering over him as they worked. According to Alya, this was a very new relationship, if it was a relationship at all, but also according to Alya, this was a thing that had been going on for a while. Either way, she didn’t have the whole story, and was needlessly frustrated by it, hence why she had sent in Nino to investigate.

But what could he tell her? That Adrien Agreste was potentially in love with Marinette? What would that make her feel? Would it put her misgivings at ease? Or would it only set off more alarms in her head that would force her to march over to Gabriel’s and interrogate the poor man herself…?

“Good work today,” Adrien complimented him as they finished up, smiling as he raised a hand for Nino to shake. “It was fun to work with you. I hope I get the opportunity again sometime.”

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the photographers,” Nino drawled, smirking a little as he shook Adrien’s hand. Adrien laughed at that.

“While I like to be polite to most everyone, I mean it when I say it was fun.” His smile softened, and Nino thought he caught something else beneath…was that…wistfulness…? “I don’t get to hang out with a lot of guys my age on a daily basis.”

…Really?

“You mean…you don’t have friends?” Nino questioned. A second later, he realized such a question was kind of phrased rudely, but before he could figure out how to apologize, Adrien let out a sad chuckle that had Nino’s stomach clenching uncomfortably.

“Hard to make friends when you’re always networking.” As they walked to the doors of the studio, Adrien lowered his voice, as if he did not want his manager overhearing from behind them. “Hard to know who’s really interested in you, or what you can do for them, when you’re…well, me.”

…

That…was the most fucked up thing Nino had ever heard.

From what he could see, Adrien was a decent guy. A little sappy, maybe, but decent. This industry hadn’t turned him into a brat or a diva, either—he was genuinely just _kind_. Nino knew how rare that was to find, especially in such a cutthroat world like the fashion industry; it was why he didn’t usually dabble in companies like this. But to find someone like Adrien in the midst of such a harsh line of work, only to find that he didn’t really have any friends…

As they exited the studio, Nino felt himself act on impulse: he withdrew a business card from his pocket, handing it over to Adrien.

“Here. That has my contact information on it,” he said. Adrien blinked, accepting the card.

“Oh…would you like me to pass this on to my father?”

Nino hated that Adrien’s mind seemed to immediately jump to work. Sure, it was a business card, but that didn’t meant it _always_ had to be used for business…

“No,” he said, turning to look Adrien in the eye. “You use it when you want someone to talk to.”

Adrien blinked again. He looked down at the card, then up at Nino, clearly uncomprehending.

“It’s…for me…?”

“Yeah,” Nino said. “Call, text, or e-mail. I can’t guarantee that I’ll always respond right away—I got a living to make too, you know.” He cringed briefly before he added, “But I’ll definitely make it a point to get back to you when I can.”

Something began to grow in Adrien’s eyes, something Nino picked up on right away: hope.

“Really?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe that anyone would want to talk to him. Nino laughed, clamping a friendly hand on the model’s shoulder.

“Really, dude.” He winked, pointing a finger gun at him. “Never hurts to have someone to talk to, right? Who knows—we might even become friends.”

And Adrien smiled the first, real genuine smile Nino had seen all day.

“I’d like that,” he said, and Nino grinned. How Alya could suspect this sunshine child of ne’er-do-well activity, Nino would never know.

“Oh…hi, Adrien.”

Immediately, Adrien’s attention was stolen by the familiar voice. Because he was still looking at him, Nino watched his face transform into that sappy look from before, and he bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Marinette,” he greeted in a tone so pleased, it was almost like she had given him the world. Welp, that confirmed it—he was a sucker for Marinette, plain and simple. Mission accomplished.

Nino turned to sneak away, vanish from the lovers’ sight, but—

“Nino?”

Nino froze.

Oh shit. He just remembered one of the other objectives Alya had set for him: _make sure to stay out of Marinette’s sight._

Welp. Looked like he blew _that_ one.

“Uh…hey, ‘Nette!” He greeted heartily, whirling around with a grin, since it was too late for him to vanish. “Uh, how ya doin’?”

Marinette frowned at him, and Nino cringed. While she looked confused to see him there, he knew it wouldn’t last very long…maybe he could rush out of this conversation if he claimed he was busy—

“You two know each other?” Adrien piped up, casting curious glances between him and Marinette.

“He’s my best friend’s boyfriend,” she explained, and suddenly, as if the allusion to Alya was enough, her eyes began to narrow. “Nino, what are you doing here…?”

“Uh…photoshoot!” Nino said, lifting his camera for emphasis. “Yeah, I was looking for work in the neighborhood, and uh, I remembered you mentioning something about Gabriel needing photographers—”

“I said no such thing,” Marinette refuted him, folding her arms now, lips pursing as she glared up at him. “Nino—”

“WOW, would you look at the time? So much to do, so much to see, I gotta go. Bye!”

Nino took off as fast as he could, dodging around startled interns carrying coffee and paperwork with hurried apologies. Oh man…he knew him running was basically a confession, but he wasn’t about to stick around and let Marinette interrogate him either—he’d crack under those narrowed blue eyes, he just knew it.

Well, it wasn’t like he would be in too much trouble anyway. He was just the accomplice, after all.

…His mastermind girlfriend, however…

Back near the studio, Adrien turned from where he’d watched Nino flee, blinking startled eyes at Marinette.

_‘What was that about?’_

Marinette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

_‘Nothing, just…I’m going to kill Alya.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Adrien's gross even when he's not around Marinette. Bleh.
> 
> Oh Nino. You were so close. XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got caught up on S2 and caught the feels, so have a chapter of fluff because I am nOT OKAY.
> 
> ~Reyna

The ethereal sunlight glinted off the grass, setting free every pigment of yellow and green in existence. Marinette sighed, content to lay here on this velvet grass all day, Adrien’s head resting on her stomach as he lounged on top of her, like an overgrown cat. He was even _purring._

Marinette giggled, her fingertips dancing through his blonde strands.

“Happy, _mon chaton?_ ”

“Mm,” Adrien hummed, lifting his head so that his chin rested against her abdomen, peace in his bright green eyes. “I want to stay here forever.”

“Me too,” Marinette readily admitted, though she sat up a little, peering curiously at their surroundings. “Although…I don’t suppose you know where we are?”

“No idea,” Adrien said, sounding quite carefree as he sat up as well, the black cat ears atop his head flickering in the breeze. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Me either…”

‘ _But even so,_ ’ Marinette mused as she took in the vast expanse of this grassy area that seemed to have no end, their only shelter the ancient oak tree they were lounging under. ‘ _This place…_ ’

‘ _It feels familiar,_ ’ Adrien noted, joining her thoughts. Marinette nodded, silently concurring with his assumption.

‘ _Yes, like, somehow, we’ve been here before._ ’

‘ _It feels like—_ ’

‘ _Home,_ ’ they thought at the same time. Adrien blinked in surprise down at her, and Marinette smiled awkwardly.

“I guess it was only a matter of time before we started thinking the same thoughts, too,” she reflected, and Adrien laughed a little sheepishly.

“Maybe,” he said, brushing a loose strand of Marinette’s hair behind her ear. Her cheeks warmed at his touch, as they always did, and Adrien’s hand lingered there, his eyes on her face, roving over it, as if he was memorizing every inch of her features. His eyes drew her in, like she was being led on a string, helpless to the pull. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his, softly at first, but more firmly as he leaned into her kiss.

Ah, Marinette simply couldn’t get used to this, the electricity that seemed to build between them whenever they kissed. It was too intense, made her head swim, and yet she couldn’t get enough. She threw her arms around his neck, pleased when he pulled her closer, a satisfied noise escaping him as their mouths moved against each other, the soft glow of this world becoming hotter the longer they kissed.

“Ah,” Adrien panted, breaking away from her to breathe, but Marinette wasn’t done; she kissed the corner of his jaw, his earlobe, and the space just underneath that, getting greedy, because she wanted more of him right here, right now—

The ringing started, and Marinette groaned.

“Not now,” she complained, and Adrien laughed a little breathlessly against her.

“There’s always later, My Lady,” he promised her, with a quick, chaste kiss before the world unraveled around them, and Marinette woke up.

“Urgh,” she groaned as she sat up, shoving her comforter off her, because it was suddenly too hot in her room. As the dream came back to her, Marinette remembered what she was doing and where her hands were about to wander. Her face caught fire, and she promptly buried it in her hands in sheer embarrassment.

That’s it—she needed a shower. A _cold_ one.

 

* * *

 

“Adrien,” Nathalie spoke up in a voice so sharp he felt a sense of dread steal over him immediately, “what is _that?_ ”

Adrien blinked up at her from where he was getting his make-up done.

“What’s what?”

Nathalie pursed her lips, as if she thought he was being smart. He just stared back at her in confusion. What was she talking about?

Shooing the make-up artist to the side, Nathalie stepped forward, turning Adrien to face the make-up mirror.

“That,” she said, jabbing her finger to a spot just under his left earlobe. Still confused, Adrien turned his head to get a better angle—

There was a dark red patch just under his ear. He stared at it. What in the world…?

“Is that…a rash?” He asked, beginning to become concerned. This wasn’t good—he always took such good care of his skin. How in the world had he contracted a rash? Was he allergic to this brand of make-up? To the scarf they made him try on earlier?

Nathalie let out a short breath.

“Adrien,” she began sternly, “you and I both know that is not a rash.”

“Then what is it?” Adrien asked, genuinely confused. Seriously, he had never seen anything like it before. If it wasn’t a rash, what was it?

Nathalie, after a stern look at him, dismissed the amused-looking make-up artist, who walked away laughing. Adrien flushed without fully knowing why, and he met Nathalie’s sharp gaze in trepidation. Why did he feel like he was in trouble…?

“Adrien, I shouldn’t have to remind you of this, but you represent your father’s company at every moment. You are the face of his brand, so for you to be walking around with a hickey—”

Adrien choked.

“A _what_?” He said, a little too loudly. Nathalie clucked her tongue.

“A _hickey,_ Adrien,” she explained, as if she were speaking to a rebellious teenager. “And don’t bother pretending; you and I both know it’s a little too late for that.”

Adrien rubbed at the hickey, as if it would come off if he simply wiped at it. To his dismay, it stubbornly remained, and suddenly, he felt as exposed as he would be if he was modeling underwear. Oh god, why was it there? He might not have had any before, but he knew how hickeys were formed, at the very least, and he could say with absolute confidence that he had _never_ —

…Oh.

_Oh._

Adrien’s face lit up like a traffic light, and Nathalie sighed with a shake of her head.

“Adrien, what you do in your free time is your business,” she said, though her stare was still disapproving. “But you cannot allow it to interfere with your work, do you understand?”

“Uh, yes, Nathalie, I’m sorry,” Adrien told her with a cringe. “Um, if it’s okay…do you mind if we end early today?”

“I suppose we’ll have to, with that thing on your neck. Of course, if we get the right make-up—”

“Okay, great,” Adrien replied distractedly, getting up from the make-up chair and pulling the bib from his shirt. “I’ll, um, be right back…”

 

* * *

 

Marinette was useless today. She knew it to be true, and yet she remained stubborn, still trying to get work done. But when she sewed her shirt into the pair of pants she was supposed to be making for the third time, Rhys yanked her away from her sewing machine.

“Girl,” she began with a look, and Marinette was reminded instantly of Alya, “what is _with_ you today?”

“Uh…” Marinette trailed off awkwardly, her eyes darting around the office, searching for anything that would distract Rhys from her. After all, how could Marinette confess that she was out of sorts because she wanted to be asleep, dreaming together with her sort-of-but-not-really-boyfriend-soulmate-thing?

Her eyes landed on the doorway, and quite abruptly, there Adrien was. Speak of the Devil.

“Adrien?” Marinette squeaked, surprised because she hadn’t expected to see him so soon. He gave a little wave, smiling awkwardly, his hand rubbing his neck.

“Uh, hi. Er, can I talk to you, Marinette? Or, is this a bad time…?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Marinette cleared her throat. “Rhys, Vera, take a ten minute break.”

“Huh? But my blouse—” Vera protested, only to be grabbed by Rhys and steered towards the doors.

“It’ll be there when we get back, Vera,” she assured her coworker with a smirk. “C’mon, let’s leave the lovebirds alone for ten minutes.”

“We’re not—” Marinette began, only to cut herself off with a sigh. What was even the point? Rhys was gonna be Rhys.

Gathering what remained of her poise, Marinette invited Adrien in, closing the doors behind him.

“What’s up?” She asked, leaning against the doors as she peered at him, taking in how…awkward he looked. And he was still rubbing his neck…was he in pain?

“Ah,” Adrien began, and slowly, he lowered his hand. “I, uh, just wanted to talk to you about…this.”

He turned his head, pointing to his neck. Just below his earlobe was a dark red splotch, a splotch that looked suspiciously like…

Marinette felt her heart drop.

Adrien had a hickey? But…why? Was he in a shoot earlier with another model that had gotten a little too friendly? Did he feel guilty about it? Was he trying to tell her first before some rumor circulated throughout the company?

“That’s the thing,” Adrien began, reacting to her thoughts again. “I, ah…think I woke up with it.”

He raised his eyebrows, and suddenly, Marinette understood.

“Ohmygod,” she mumbled, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. “ _I’msosorry_.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, laughing a little, though he looked as embarrassed as she did. “It’s not like either of us knew it would happen.”

“ _Still._ ” Marinette covered her eyes with her hands. “Oh my goodness…did you get in trouble?”

“A bit,” Adrien admitted, and Marinette gave him an apologetic look, biting her lip.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized again, disregarding Adrien’s wave. “Is there anything I can do to fix it? Do you need concealer? Or, do you need me to, uh…take the fall?”

“Marinette, that isn’t necessary—”

“Please, Adrien,” she interrupted him, clasping her hands together. “I feel so bad. What can I do to fix it? Anything, just name it.”

Adrien scratched his cheek, glancing away from her for a moment, appearing to think about it. And think about it he did: when Marinette heard what he was considering, she felt herself blush, and Adrien went scarlet as well, once he realized she heard him.

“I was kidding,” he said in a rush, raising his hands. “I totally didn’t mean it, I—”

“Okay,” Marinette agreed, disregarding his panicked chatter. Adrien paused, his mouth hanging open.

“R-really?”

“Sure.” Marinette shifted, grinning in a guilty sort of way. “I mean, it’s embarrassing, but since I started it…”

“You’re sure?”

As an answer, Marinette swept her hair off her right shoulder, tilting her head to present her neck to him. Sure, the thought of matching hickeys was beyond embarrassing, but since it didn’t really seem fair for Adrien to be the only one walking around in that state…

Adrien’s eyes followed the curve of her neck; the look in his eyes made her shiver a little, but Marinette remained still, allowing him to come closer, his arms sliding around her, pulling her flush against him. He held her gaze for one, two, three breathless seconds…and then his head was dipping lower, his lips brushing against her neck.

Marinette bit her lip to keep from making any noise, even as she felt his lips suck at her skin, a thrill shooting through her at the way he held her, his hands flexing, as if he wanted to be pressing them into bare skin instead of the fabric of her dress. She let out a shaky breath when he pulled back, touching the tender skin under her earlobe. It would embarrass her to see the damage later, but for right now, she didn’t care; when Adrien’s forehead bumped against hers, she stretched up to meet his lips, her hands fisting into the hair at the back of his head. Adrien responded enthusiastically to her passion, lifting her clear off the ground, his arms tight and strong around her. Marinette was dizzy, drunk on this feeling, and for a moment, she let herself fantasize about clearing her desk of those unnecessary items atop it, helping Adrien out of his clothes and getting rid of hers, and just—

There was a knock on the door, just as Adrien’s cell phone began to buzz in his pocket. He and Marinette’s lips parted, and as one, they sighed. Alas, reality beckoned.

“I’ll call you,” Adrien promised, his hand stroking down her neck, resting briefly on his new addition to her skin before he let his hand fall away. His warmth was immediately missed; Marinette crossed her arms to cope and nodded.

“Mmkay,” she agreed, returning his smile. She stepped out of the way so he could leave, and not even the knowing smirks of her subordinates could embarrass Marinette. As she returned to her sewing machine and deflected Rhys’ leading questions, Marinette let a fingertip trace over the hickey Adrien had given her.

A guilty giggle escaped her. It was very unprofessional, to be sure…but Marinette didn’t regret it. After all, now they matched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Okay, so it was a bit too spicy to be pure fluff. Sue me. :P
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


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